Shipwrecked
by BRKyle
Summary: This story was the result of a challenge issued me on a board: What if YOU were stuck on a desert island with Qui-Gon Jinn? Well, like Topsy, this one 'growed', and it wasn't what they expected. Rated 'T' for some mild language and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

A couldn't believe it.

I, the original hard luck case, had won a cruise! And not just any cruise, but a cruise to the Bahamas over winter break! When I received the tickets in the mail, I couldn't believe that it wasn't a scam of some sort; I didn't recall entering any such contest, However, after calling the companies involved and making myself a complete nuisance to all concerned, everything turned out to be legitimate. So I ran up my credit card making the usual silly cruise purchases and arranged the time off for a long-overdue vacation. Between working on the hospital floor as a tech and taking courses for a masters' degree in management, I had been running too fast to have had time or money for any kind of recreation but an occasional SCA event or weekend with the family.

After the initial wretched bout of seasickness, I really enjoyed the ocean journey. The islands were lovely, the weather was warm and clear, and I reveled in being able to freckle and bake in the sun on the deck while reading _The Lord of the Rings_ for the first time in years. It was sheer luxury to read something I wanted to read instead of the bloody organizational psychology and statistics texts that had formed my intellectual experience for the past two years. I'd be done after this semester, though. I hoped it would be worth it. Now, I just enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of the ocean, and paid little mind to the children playing tag on the deck, except to smile at them and throw their ball back when I caught it. It was nice to see kids who were healthy and happy, for a change, too. I did a lot of thinking, about what I wanted to do and be. It was more time to myself than I'd had in a long time.

On the fifth night, I awoke when I was jolted out of my bed by a swell. It was abrupt and frightening, and I had a horrible headache – I'd had a couple of drinks the night before, but it wasn't a hangover. I looked nervously out the tiny porthole over my bed _(**don't **call it a window)_, and saw rain lashing at the glass through a pea-soup fog like nothing I'd ever seen before. The wind howled like cheap special effects, and I had a hard time standing up with the bucking of the deck.

_Wonderful. I win a cruise and the boat gets sunk from beneath my feet. Only me. Good going, Kyle. _I heard a dreadful noise from the boat itself, and felt the vibrations of the support members groaning through my own bones. Not good. On a hunch, I grabbed my bag and started putting some essentials into it. A change of clothes or two, medication, my stethoscope and cuff. Odds and ends that I thought might be helpful. My books and CD player, all my extra batteries. It was no surprise to hear the alarm, and a few moments later the pounding at my door. It was my steward. _Poor guy, he's younger than I am. _

"Miss Kyle, we need to abandon ship." He looked pretty green. I could identify; I wasn't too happy myself, and I felt like a refugee from a bad sitcom. However, I was determined to survive this and tell my grandchildren about it. "Please stay calm, and go up the main stairway topside to the boat deck," he said. "Be sure to hold on to the railing, it's rough going." It sounded like a canned response; he seemed close to panic himself. _ Nope, this is not good at all._

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, more because I wanted to stop the theme from _Gilligan's Island_ from going through my head than the thought that I could do anything. He smiled, looking very much like a frightened ten-year-old in the dim flashing red light.

"No, Miss, we all have our jobs to do. You need to go to your lifeboat now."

"Right you are, then. Be careful, Steven." But he was already knocking on the next door, looking more scared than ever. I grabbed my bag, my fiddle, and my guitar case _what harm could it do? They'd tell me if I had to leave it behind, and the cases are waterproof _, and went up the stairs.

Topside on the boat deck was a madhouse. Many people had evidently decided that now would be a _good _time to panic, and were busy doing so in their own way. The crew had a hard job getting them to even track the idea of putting on their vests, much less proceeding to the boats themselves. The same children who had played tag around my deck chair the day before were now either screaming in fright or hanging on to their parents watching silently, frozen in terror. The adults, mostly in the same kind of shape, preferred to be shouting and angry because they thought they shouldn't show fear around the children. Add to that the mad tossing and howling and the cold rain of the storm and the fog, and it was chaos. I went over to the loading point and wound up helping people climb into the covered lifeboats, making sure children and the elderly got in. The boats looked more like torpedoes than dories, and were launched over the side by gravity. I could hear one of the boys I'd grinned at from my chair shout "Wheee!" as the first one fell away. _That kid will go far in life, _ I decided. _Or to prison. I hope he'll live that long. _

In a brief calm and break in the fog, I saw us suspended across the top of two huge swells, and heard and felt in my teeth a horrible screech as the skin of the ship started to visibly deform. We _were_ in trouble; it must have been the very bones of the ship twisting and breaking beneath us. I didn't know much about ship design, but I did know that they weren't made for that kind of punishment. The engines must be out, or not strong enough to steer us into the weather so we'd avoid this kind of stress on the vessel. I was beginning to prefer the_ Gilligan's Island_ theme to hearing "_La mer ne pardonne-pas_" going through my head... I started handing in the children and adults faster, and soon the second and third boats were away. The captain came out, and I assumed that they had loaded the rest of the passengers.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted. I could barely hear him over the gale, but the purser tried to come to my defense. I couldn't hear him, either.

"I was -- " I began, timidly. The blow took the words from my mouth, but it didn't matter. By now he was screaming into my face, and I flinched at the fury in his voice.

"I don't care if you were repairing the engines with a bloody nail file, bubble gum, and duct tape!" he roared. "You should have gone on the boat you were assigned! Do you know that you wouldn't live ten minutes in this water, young woman? What the hell were you thinking?! There are no heroes on my ship! Now you'll have to come into the open boat with us," he said. "Secure your bags. The fourth closed boat won't deploy." He ranted for a few moments more, but I think he was speaking Dutch. Good thing. I didn't want to know – the words I did understand from my German course in high school and being stationed in Germany were definitely far from complimentary.

The correct answer to that diatribe was, "Yes, sir." _ Damn. He's entirely correct; I'm a complete idiot. That's what I get for being noble and stupid. The old man is right as usual... No good deed goes unpunished. _ I stepped into the boat where I was told, and used the tiedowns to fix myself and my bags securely to the bench as directed. I was soaked through and shivering by this time, and I put on the hardhat they gave me and sat in the stern of the boat holding on to the bench line. I had a feeling that this was not going to be a pleasant ride.

As we began to cast off, the ship rolled madly and I saw the spars that held the boat together finally splinter and snap in the gale. The boat plummeted into the roiling sea, and I was about ready to kiss my stomach -- and yesterday's dinner -- goodbye. I was amazed that I wasn't afraid. All I thought about was holding on, as the boat was tumbled and tossed on the huge storm swells and pummeled by debris from the ship, which had totally capsized. It was like swimming in a jacuzzi filled with ice -– endless bubbles came up out of the sea, and the ship slipped under the water incredibly quickly. The lifeboat was inflatable, and it bucked and came up out of the water just in time, as I doggedly hung gasping to the line that kept me inside. I shook the stinging salt water out of my eyes and looked around, trying to catch my breath in a foul stinking breathless miasma.

There was no one else in the boat.

I screamed for the dozen or so crewmembers, who had stood by, done their duty, saved my life and so many others, as the air seemed squeezed from my chest. I wiped my eyes and willed myself to see them in the fog and the sheets of cold rain, reached with oars and threw lines for countless things I desperately imagined were hands but always turned out to be pieces of random flotsam. Ten minutes? It had to have been been longer than that by now… I finally collapsed onto the bench amidships and wept, until I grew lightheaded and passed out.

I woke an indeterminate time later, on a sea still tossed by heavy swells. There were a few inches of water in the boat, but otherwise my luggage and I were unharmed. I looked around and saw that there was still fog, but the sea wasn't looking like Mountain Dew anymore. It was easier to catch my breath, and I found the first aid kit and the compass. Well, I was pretty likely to hit land if I headed west, though I was damned if I could remember – oh, right. Ten years of Girl Scout memories trickled into my aching head, and I went astern and started the outboard, and headed west… until the compass went haywire, spinning around like a gyrotop. I got dizzy again, and wondered if I'd gotten some water in my ear or something, though I couldn't feel it. Then all I could do was hold on to the boat, to anything I could, because I felt like I was floating in midair for a bit, like the boat was spinning, and I was spinning the opposite way. I fainted again, I think – or suddenly I knew which way was down, there was bright sunlight, and a breeze that smelled like it might be from land. The air was clear, and so was the sky – it was a unique sapphire blue that I'd never seen before. The sun seemed to be in the wrong place, and I wondered how long I'd been unconscious. There seemed to be something odd about the whole thing, but I couldn't put a finger on it. And I still had a wretched headache.

I found the GPS receiver, the radio beacon, and the charts, finally, and found that the bloody receiver was broken, showing a red "No Signal" indicator. The beacon had an on switch, and I pushed it. It started beeping and blinking in what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring manner. Hopefully, the thing was now busy screaming for the Coast Guard to come get me. _Damn. Well, back to compass reckoning for now. If I don't find my way back to some kind of civilization, I'm going to start talking to myself. More._

The compass seemed to be all right, but as I headed west it started to act up again. I didn't like that idea, so I headed into the breeze that smelled like land, which turned out to be approximately north. Perhaps I'd been blown to another set of islands, or even back to the Bahamas. The sea looked different, but after a storm all sorts of odd things would come out of the depths. I didn't know a thing about that.

I almost wish I could say that I was in the boat for days and nearly died of dehydration, to inject more drama into the story. No such luck for me. Actually, after I took a seasickness pill and some Tylenol, bailed out the boat, and steered into the breeze, it took me only a couple of hours to reach land. It looked like a rather large island, and I was able to see a fair amount of debris on the beach. I pulled into a small cove and found what I hoped was a good landing place. A dozen or two rather creepy looking crustaceans scuttled out of the way. "Drawn butter is all that's standing between you and death," I said to them, just to hear a voice. They weren't impressed, and I didn't blame them. I didn't feel very impressive. I pulled the boat up onto the beach; it was amazingly light. It seemed to be midafternoon, and I decided to figure out what I had and what I could scavenge from the stuff on the beach. I'd no idea what – or who – else was on this island or whatever it was, and I wanted a little bit of time to settle before I had to explore and confront it or them or whatever. It had been a very long day and I hadn't even had breakfast yet.

In the compartments forward and aft below the benches, I found basic survival gear and a very complete first aid kit, which I found to be the doctor's bag, with everything from painkillers to antibiotics to surgical instruments. There was even a small microscope. _ This wasn't the Beagle, what was this about? Well, it could be useful. _ All I had were a few rope burns, cuts, and bruises from being hit by debris and knocked around the lifeboat when it rolled, and I cleaned and dressed them carefully. Even though I still had the headache from hell, I couldn't find any bumps, bruises or cuts on my head. I didn't know whether to be thankful or not, but I could get around under my own steam after regaining some land legs. However, I also found that I was weak and shaking with dehydration and hunger. _ No sense in getting sick, my chances aren't good as it stands. _ I found the rations – the boat had been built to seat 16, providing they were well acquainted, and had supplies for 5 days – and ate a food bar, drank a couple of bags of water. There was a purifier, a still, and iodine tablets as well; I would be okay for water for the foreseeable future. I dozed off where I sat for a few moments, exhausted. I woke with a start. I couldn't sleep now; I had to figure out how I could be safe in a strange place. There was a flare pistol, but that was all there was in the way of weaponry aside of the little axe and shovel in the tool kit. I built a signal fire the first night, with all the dry wood I could lay hands on easily, out on the beach. I managed to pull the boat up past what passed for the high tide line and turn it over with a tarp on the ground, pitched face first on the tarp and slept like a dead thing.

The next morning I felt like I'd been run over by a herd of elephants. The adrenaline had worn off, and it seemed I'd grown a few dozen new places for pain overnight. It was midmorning when I stirred, by my best reckoning. My watch, predictably, had given up the ghost in the storm. Not many watches are designed for a hurricane blow. It took me a little while to loosen up enough to crawl out from under the boat. Had to figure a better place to sleep, it smelled awful under there. Yucko.

I had another ration bar for breakfast. Made me think fondly of eating the rubberized shell of the boat. Hey, maybe sushi – no, I didn't think so. I didn't recognize any of the fish I'd seen so far, and I wouldn't know a yellowtail if it squirted me in the eye – and no wasabi. _Tough luck, Kyle._ No one had come to rescue me; I saw nothing on the horizon, even with the field glasses so thoughtfully provided by the emergency tool kit. _ To hell with the handsome knight on a white charger, I'd take two rednecks in a leaky dinghy now. _ I couldn't see a sign of any life as far as I could see with the glasses. Well. I did my best to secure the boat and the equipment, and decided I should explore a bit. I changed into my other clothes behind the boat, for some strange reason. But they were dry and the shoes were good sneakers, and the walk would do me good. Maybe I'd go around the cove and find some marina or something. Wouldn't I feel dumb then?

I took what looked like a deer path into the center of the island, walking cautiously up the hillside into what seemed to be a forest. I'd never seen trees like those before, though. And the critters that either skittered out of my way or looked curiously at me were not familiar. Guess I'd gotten behind in my Wild Kingdom watching over the last few years. I did see other things that were odd, like plants with blue foliage. Blue. Deep royal blue. My dendrology professor would have a bit to say about that. I took a sample of the leaves and put it in my pack to have a look at it. I shaded my eyes and looked up at the sun, which seemed a bit small to me. I was beginning to have some unholy suspicions. Like, why was there no clear high tide mark? Frequent storms? Gods, I hope not. And why hadn't someone found me by now? Didn't someone say that there was no place in the Caribbean that couldn't be reached by the Coast Guard within a few hours?

It took me two or three hours at my reduced pace to hike to the other side of the island. It seemed to be at least five miles across, and I had found a stream and some considerable debris from several kinds of vessels, perhaps even an aircraft or two of some kind. Some kind I'd never seen before… I wasn't happy with my train of thought. I can't jump to conclusions now. If I'm supposed to believe that I've stepped into the Twilight Zone, I need to see more proof than some odd looking metal wreckage and a strange plant or two.

Well, ask and you shall receive. I climbed over the shelter of a ridge and into a burned-out clearing there they were – it was clear that they were dead; they were obviously putrefying. The smell was indescribable. The food bar was terminated with extreme prejudice, but not because of the smell. "They" were aliens. Two little green men – well, teal blue turning to gray, actually. About four and a half feet tall, with big black eyes and snouts that looked almost prehensile. I seemed to recognize them from somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it. I held my breath and took a Polaroid of them, took a few samples and put them in a plastic bag, and wasted a couple of matches and some kerosene in lighting a pyre to burn their bodies, since the scavengers had begun to nibble and they looked more than a little ragged. I burned the gloves, too. No use in taking any chances. I came across their ship half an hour later. It looked like a space vessel, with dark burn marks scored in lines across the body of it and one of the tailfins blown off, what looked like an engine missing. The writing was also oddly familiar, as though I'd seen it before. I sat down for a bit, severely shaken and doing my best not to hyperventilate. _Maybe it's time to panic now. My kingdom for a paper bag._

I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself, consciously trying to relax and be rational, so I wouldn't soil my drawers or something. I only had two or three clean pairs left, after all, and no idea whether I would find anything to wash them in. I had to think clearly, I couldn't operate on fear and ignorance, but I had to observe and draw what conclusions I could from facts that I could discern. I couldn't do the trial and error method here; I wouldn't survive a week if I did. Okay, Lyn, it's time to think. It seemed that there were creatures here that were not from the Earth I knew. And I hadn't seen a single creature that I had recognized. I hadn't even seen any bugs. I wanted to look at some of the samples I'd taken under that dinky little microscope in the doctor's bag back at the boat. Hell, how could I not want to study them? Maybe meet them?

There were other questions, too, like – was I seeing the_ Weekly World News' _"Island Crash Site of the Aliens on Earth" (that would be on the front page, between the "**Famed Psychic's Head Explodes!**" and "**Curse of the BatBoy**!" headlines, I was guessing) or _was I the alien in another place?_ I had been in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, after all. If that were the case, then I was in a totally different situation. That shook me up. This was way too much. I couldn't make a judgment with the data I had, not yet, so I had to reserve my opinion for when I had more facts… and I would get them soon, as early as that night. The stars would tell me where I was – or, more germanely, where I wasn't. I did my best to ignore the cold lump of fear forming in my gut.

I looked at the ship in the shadows of the clearing where it had landed, and it struck me where I'd seen the writing before._ Aurebesh. It's Aurebesh, by all the Gods_. Star Wars, all that stuff – damn. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as much a shock if it were somewhere I'd imagined, but I still had to watch myself, carefully. I looked at the Polaroids and then remembered the race of those poor fellows – they were Rodians. Like Greedo, the bounty hunter who came to a bad end on Han Solo's blaster bolt. Gods, if I was in the Galaxy Far, Far Away, when was I here? Why was I here? No, there was no point in speculating, not yet. I could push the hysteria back for a little while longer. Most likely I was just imagining all of it anyway.

It was a long time till dark. It was hard to say with a broken watch, but it just seemed that the afternoon lasted forever. Perhaps the day was longer than I expected. I went back to the boat after a bit more exploration; I had found a few things that might be good shelter if I put them together correctly. Sleeping under the boat was not going to cut it for long.

The sunset was spectacular; there were lovely colors. I didn't recognize the stars. Two moons rose over the horizon less than two hours later. One was a good deal smaller than the other, but they were both far too big to be stars or satellites. For a few minutes, I was totally still, basically in shock. I just sat down on the beach because my legs would no longer hold me, and watched the moons come up into the sky, and it all hit home. I'd taken a very long trip during that storm; that seemed pretty clear. I had stepped into the Twilight Zone.

I wasn't conscious of starting to cry. By the time I realized what was happening, I was hysterical, shrieking, pounding on the sand and throwing rocks and sand and anything else I could lay hands on into the water, and I couldn't stop. There was just no way to get a lid on it. I had to cry it out, to get it out of my system. I don't know how long it took, but I do know that I was absolutely exhausted afterward because I'd spent half the day holding it back. Everything. I was never going home, never going to see my dad or my brother again, never going to see the nasty head nurse on the Peds floor, or feed the pigeons in front of the hospital again. Never get my damned degree. Never.

Eventually, I ran out of steam, lying on the beach with a few of those funny looking crabs peering at me curiously, as if to say, "Why did you make that disagreeable noise?"

"Sorry, guys," I whispered, totally without voice. "I'll abide by the curfew ordinance in the future."

There wasn't much reason to light a big signal fire after that, and perhaps a very good reason not to do so. I looked up at the stars and they were all different, lovely and seemingly closer than the ones I'd grown up with. Perhaps it was because the air was cleaner there, or maybe they were closer. I couldn't tell. But I did know that I could use the charts for toilet tissue and the GPS receiver for steel to strike flint on. The only reason I left the radio beacon on was that the bloody thing had no "off" switch. I checked. If there were people on this place, and they used any kind of RF communication, they'd know I was here, all right. Was that a good thing? I couldn't tell that, either. The laws of physics seemed to be the same on the larger level. Nothing had poisoned me yet, but that may have been because I had the sense not to eat any of the native flora or fauna. There weren't any tests of the sort in the survival kit. I suspected that the equipment that was there had been put in the boat more for reassurance than practicality. I felt more comfortable with the doctor's bag.

I watched the stars wheel above me, totally unfamiliar. I couldn't see any constellations I recognized – not Orion, the Southern Cross, Great or Little Bear, none I could see. All that work on the Astronomy merit badge, and what do I get? Another starfield to look at. It was a strange and lonely feeling of unreality, frightening. Be careful what you wish for. I'd wanted time alone to think, and I'd sure gotten it. Possibly the rest of my life, such as that might be.

I sat for a long time that night, thinking things over. My mind raced so fast I couldn't sleep, though I was bone tired and still sore, and my head throbbed abominably from my earlier tantrum. Small creatures that looked a bit like insects came out, and little reptilian-looking flying animals came out to eat them. They were deep red and gold; they looked like little dragons. Curiouser and curiouser... Neither group paid me much attention, but I watched them, to take my mind off of other things for a bit. Some of the small creatures glowed with odd colors of green and yellow and orange. One of them that landed on my shoe looked like a tiny butterfly with delicate little wings outlined in faint blue phosphorescence. Fireflies, I noted absently, didn't look like that. As I watched, I just stayed there, absorbed in the beauty of this little creature; so different from anything I'd ever seen. This little guy managed. Maybe I would, too. On that note, I decided it was time to sleep. Conquering the world would have to start tomorrow.

The morning was bright and cool, and the boat smelled worse than ever. New shelter was the order of business, I decided, shaking something crawly and unpleasant out of my shoes. I'd jumped about a yard when I saw it. It didn't look like it had anything to bite with, but I had my doubts. Something had disturbed my trash midden during the night, but at least they'd left the latrine alone as far as I could see. I wanted a place where I could feel safer, and I needed to scout out the rest of the island for a more secure location. Great. S_wiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe_, where are you when I need you? I looked in my bag. There was T_he Lord of the Rings, Norton's Anthology of Poetry, Dune, Le Morte D'Artur, Beowulf, The Chronicles of Amber_, and _Gideon's Bible_, right where I'd left them. I hadn't even thought to dump them out when I'd left. Amazingly enough, the fiddle and guitar had survived, too, and were actually playable. That was a great comfort. Playing calmed my nerves a bit. Maybe if I couldn't fight the big bad wolf, I could scare him away. Now, how did that yodeling song go?

It would be a bore to relate the details of how I found an empty cargo container and used it to make a shelter. Embarrassing, too. I was a native klutz, and nearly killed myself a couple of times trying to move it to the place I had decided on, in the shelter of the ridge. Don't let those folks on the documentaries fool you. They didn't move the stones of the Pyramids on sledges and logs, they just cussed and sweated and broke bones trying to get the damn things into place. But finally, with the aid of some decent luck and some of the tools in the kit (whoda thunk that the block and tackle would be so useful?) it was finished. It was nothing fancy, but it was someplace I could go in the weather, and I even managed not to amputate any fingers or toes while doing it – barely. Once I got so frustrated with the damn thing that I kicked it and nearly broke my foot again. I went through a few days after that where I was panicked by every noise; since I couldn't run and had discovered no real predators on the island, my imagination was running wild. It took me almost a week to get over that and get hold of myself.

While attempting the rather clumsy construction, I had an encounter with a small animal that looked a bit like a cat at first glance. He even purred. He came when I offered him a bit of my food bar, and I acquired a buddy when he decided I was a soft touch – or too big to eat. He seemed to be young, and he was affectionate and rather sweet. He quickly became my sidekick. I decided that Friday would be way too corny, so I named him Slan, since he had little curly white tendril-like whiskers that waved from his forehead, just like in the old book. He had a pointy snout, and was masked like a ferret, patterned in gray and brown. He was also the size of a small cat, but he had big purple eyes and an opposable thumb like a raccoon. I just hoped he wouldn't grow up to be so big that he would eat me for dessert one day. In case he did, sucking up to him wouldn't be a bad thing. I believe he kept me from going out of my mind; it helped just to have another being to talk to. He liked to ride on my shoulder, and would climb up onto me whenever I sat to get a better view of the landscape. He even liked my guitar and singing – now that was a true friend. I didn't mind sharing my food with him. The first time I closed the door at night he put up a hell of a racket outside, but when I opened the door he walked in like he owned the place (perhaps to his mind he did), surveyed his holdings, and plopped down on my pallet, looking up at me happily as though congratulating me for being so clever and resourceful.

"Thanks," I said. "Make yourself at home, why don't you? Just remember, no stinking up the place. If you have to go, you go outside, okay?" I swear by all that's holy he looked at me indignantly.

/_Of course, no self-respecting predator would foul its lair. _/

I shook my head. _Whoa, Kyle, your mind is going. Well, it might make the time pass more quickly… _

Slan never once sprayed or peed in the house. Hey, I've had boyfriends who weren't that considerate. He even decided that my latrine was a fine place to do his business, and would amiably follow me out and keep me company. I wasn't very comfortable with elimination as a spectator sport, but I could live with it if he didn't mind. I did, however, put up a tarp around the latrine. One had to have some standards, after all.

As I continued to explore around the island, I found a few more surprises. There was what looked an awful lot like a rabbit warren in one of the little hills toward the center, which excited Slan no end, and I found several coconut trees on the beach on the windward side of the island! I guess coconuts, like bad girls, go everywhere; they're packed for traveling. I also found a small stand of what looked an awful lot like banana plants, as well. I'd just seen some a week before, in the Bahamas, so I recalled them fairly well. They smelled like bananas, and they tasted like them, too. They didn't kill me outright, and if they were bananas they were fairly nutritious. The only problem was that I didn't like them very much. Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. Between coconut, bananas and fish, I might be able to survive after all. What I needed was a good source of vitamin C and carotenoids, like wild citrus or sweet potato or something. I'd run out of food bars and other things in another six weeks or so, and since I couldn't count on being rescued at all, I had to figure out how I'd survive. Since I had at my estimate about 40 to 50 square miles to explore, I hoped I'd find something. For now, I was taking vitamins and getting things set up. Nothing else to do.

The weather turned thick after ten days. It rained and rained, and I was glad for my packing crate and the little lamp. Didn't know what I'd do when I ran out of kerosene for it, but I'd worry about that later. The little radio receiver from the boat got nothing but static. I soon had no other music but my own, since I didn't have any spare batteries left, so I actually practiced guitar quite a bit. Singing lifted my spirits, and Slan liked to sit on the top of my guitar and listen. I'd decided against keeping a journal a la Mr. Crusoe, but I did write down my exploration findings with Polaroids and keep track of the days, which by the clock from the kit were actually about 26 hours and 30 minutes long. Did that mean I was ten percent younger here? Hey, I'd take what I could get. I had to figure out how long the year was first.

When the weather cleared, it was late at night. The stars were bright and the bigger moon shone as I walked out onto grass in front of the "house".

"So far, so good, Slan. We didn't get washed down the hill or rained on. Can't beat that for a first try." He purruped on my shoulder and nuzzled my ear. "Don't get fresh with me, bud." I scratched his ear, belying my words. It was very nice to have someone to talk to, even if he was a foreign beastie. I sighed. It was time to get some rest; I had more of the island to survey tomorrow. Didn't want any surprises that I could avoid.

It seemed like I'd just dropped off when I heard the thunderclap. I jumped off my pallet and went out the door in time to see the streak of light and hear the craft land over the ridge. I ran up to see the fire, and went back to the crate. There wasn't much chance anyone had survived that. I sat down on my crate and sighed. For some reason, I was convinced that there had been someone in that little ship, but after a crash like that I doubted there would be much left but ashes. I'd have a look after the fire died down. The wind was away from the clearing where I'd made camp.

I'd dozed off again a while later, when the light from the blaze had died down. It was still too hot to go near the spot where the vehicle had crashed, and I'd decided I'd have to wait until morning anyway. Slan wasn't happy about my sleeping, and he kept nudging me and batting me with his paw, actually meowing until I woke up again.

"What's the matter? You never woke me up to go before. I suppose I should thank you, silly guy. Here you go –" I opened the door just about in time to see a tall figure stagger across the clearing and collapse onto his knees at my door. I gave a short squeak, too astounded and frightened to do much more. He was human, wearing a tan shirt, vest, and jacket and dark trousers, black boots. He had long dark hair and a beard. I ran forward to help him up – he was a big man, and I had all I could do to help him into the crate and lay him down. I'm no faint flower at 5' 8" tall, but he had to be about 6' 4" or even more… I lit the lamp to get a good look at him. He had a wound in his right shoulder that was bleeding badly, and bruises and burns all over his upper body. He passed out as I laid him back, so I got the first aid kit and some water I'd boiled to wash clothes in the morning, and looked him over.

The room did a rumba once more – damn it, things have to get less weird sooner or later. This man is a Jedi. A Jedi, for the love of God. There's his lightsabre… and I think I even know which one. Oh, God… well, if he's a Jedi I'm most likely reasonably safe. If he's that Jedi I will have a nervous breakdown. Later. Now I have to see if he's all right.

His pulse was even and slower than I expected, slower than I'd seen in many men, around 70. His lungs seemed clear, his respirations fast but regular. He might have cracked a rib or two but there was no internal bleeding that I could detect, thank God. His blood pressure was a bit low, but that was to be expected. He was in incredible shape, strong and lean with long limbs smoothly muscled, his chest lightly furred with dark hair. I took off his heavy leather belt and tunics gently, easing the fabric off the deep bloody gashes, obviously made by some kind of torn or sharp metal. I wet them down to disturb them as little as I could, but I still peeled off more skin and clot than I wanted to. I washed off as much as I dared, put some silvadene ointment on the burns and raw areas, and picked the metal shards from his shoulder as gently as I could and painted it with antibiotic and put a pressure bandage on it to stop the bleeding that was still oozing after I had applied manual pressure for several minutes. From the amount of blood that soaked his clothing and his poor color, I guessed that he was in shock, and covered him up with the blankets as soon as I could. What a waste. He's beautiful. It's a shame to hide such wonderful scenery... Shame on you, Lyn, the man is wounded and bleeding and you have to restrain yourself from feeling him up? Sure, it's been a long time, but really… I wiped blood and soot from his face, the sharp angular bones standing starkly against pale skin. He is quite a handsome man. He seems so sad, though. How do I know that? The nose was a bit crooked with an old break, but it seemed to add to the effect of kindness and dignity that seemed to rest naturally on his face. He's even better looking than Liam Neeson – and that's going quite a ways. Down, girl.

I sighed and dumped the clothes into the basin so the blood would come out more easily. I could boil more water later for my laundry. Oddly enough, the blood, soot, and other nameless crud came out perfectly with just a few swishes in the water. I could see no trace of it on any of the cloth, even the torn right sleeve. _Gadzook, what is this stuff? I'll take ten bolts. So that's why he doesn't take but a few minutes to look good after a swim on Naboo._ I hung the clothes on the hooks I'd made so he'd have something dry to wear when he woke, and set his belt with the 'sabre and utility widgets next to him, within easy reach. I was beginning to shake again.

I turned back to him to see him stirring. I brought him a cup with some water and knelt beside him. "Whoa," I said. "Don't move, you've been banged up pretty badly and I don't know if I missed anything. Let me help you, do you want some water? It's safe." I didn't know if he could understand me, but I tried to be as non-threatening as I could, and moved behind him to boost him up to drink some so he wouldn't choke. He drank thirstily and laid his head back on my lap as I eased him down.

"Thank you," he said, in lightly accented English. He had a lovely voice. He opened his eyes and I saw that they were a beautiful deep blue, wise and serene despite the pain I knew he must have. He held my eyes for a long moment, and it felt like he saw through me. I colored under the scrutiny, as though he could see everything I was thinking and feeling.

"You're welcome," I said, automatically. I was flabbergasted. Of all the weird things I'd seen, this took the fur-lined bathtub.

"Why are you surprised that I speak Basic?" he asked, with a quizzical expression.

What, could he read my mind? I colored even more deeply. "Well, one doesn't assume such things from a stranger where I'm from. Especially a stranger from space. What's your name, where do you come from?" I asked, gritting my teeth for the answer I knew would come. "I'm Lyn – Belinda Kyle."

"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, inclining his head.

Well, that tears it. Oh, dear merciful heaven. I don't believe it. No, even worse. I do. I took a deep breath to steady myself while my head swam once more, and cleared my throat. "Well, Master Jinn," I said, "I'm not a doctor, but you definitely need some rest. You look like you've had a bad day."

"It would have been much worse had you not been here to help me," he said, taking my hand with a smile. He had long, strong hands that were callused and hard from work. They were good hands. I liked them. Not much of a surprise there.

"Then I'm glad I'm here," I replied. I put my other hand over his. "Rest now. I will watch, though I doubt I'd be much good in a scrap. Was there anyone with you? Anyone after you?"

"No, there was no one else," he said quietly. "And if no one has landed here, I am not being followed, at least immediately." The way he spoke made me feel like there was a sad story there, and I squeezed his hand as I felt a sorrow in me for him. "I will sleep very deeply for a time. It is to aid in healing, do not worry. If you must wake me, call my name." He looked at Slan, who had climbed up on the pallet and onto his good shoulder. Slan made an obviously conversational noise and he smiled. "Thank you, too, little one," he said to Slan, and stroked his chin gently. "We are certainly both most fortunate." Slan made a happy noise and curled up on Qui-Gon's good shoulder, purring loudly. I might not have been a native to the neighborhood, but I knew cuddle therapy when I saw it. _You fink, I can't get away with that._ Qui-Gon quirked a half-smile, which had me blushing and paranoid all over again. Hopefully I was so sunburned that it didn't show as much as it usually did. He closed his eyes and settled down to sleep, to heal. I could feel his stillness.

I walked out of the house to dump the water, my knees wobbling. _Oh God oh God oh God… I think it's time for that nervous breakdown now. _


	2. Chapter 2

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

I did stay with him. I had promised, after all, and I was still a bit worried about him. I took off his wet boots and socks and tried to make him more comfortable, but it was frighteningly like handling a corpse, stiff and cold. The night waned and it grew quite cold without clouds to hold in the heat. A couple of hours before dawn, he began to shiver and his color grew paler.

I immediately gave him my blanket – I wrapped him up as warmly as I could, covered his head and contemplated putting his tunics back on, but there was no way I could get them on without hurting him again, especially if he'd cracked a rib or something. I wrapped his feet as well as I could where they almost hung out of the covers – _poor guy, that must be the story of his life, hanging out of beds and blankets whenever he was with humans – it must be a vacation to be around Wookiees _– and it didn't help. There was no way I could make a fire inside the crate; I didn't want to suffocate us with fumes from whatever coating was inside, even if it was fire resistant. Since the floor of the thing was steel, I expected it would sauté us nicely as well. _Jedi en brochette with fava beans? I don't think so._ I lit the lamp, but it gave out a minimum amount of heat at best. There was even less chance of getting him outdoors to a fire. I suspected that if I did wake him, he would be too weak to walk, and he certainly outweighed me by enough to make carrying him impossible. I'd just hurt him more. Slan had awakened from all the commotion and looked at me accusingly. Yeah, you're running out of options, Kyle. It isn't like me to crawl into bed with a strange man, but he's wounded and weak from loss of blood. Damn it, he's beginning to look shocky now, too.

I sighed and shrugged off my shirt, and crawled under the blankets with him to lend him my body heat. I had to warm him some way, and this was all I had at hand. Thank heaven for sports bras; at least I'm not quite in my underwear. _Watch your hands, girl. Sexual assault is not on the menu, no matter how good he looks_… He continued to shiver, maybe not able to spare the energy to maintain his body temperature. He'd lost a lot of blood. I slid up to his left side and made as much skin contact on his torso as decently possible without injuring him further. He didn't flinch, but his arm came gently around me, and gradually the shivering subsided and he relaxed, breathing more deeply again. I pillowed my cheek on his good shoulder and thought warm thoughts.

I was amazed at how I'd missed simple human contact – I teared up at the touch of his skin, and had all I could do not to sob out loud. It was so good to be held, even simply because he needed my body heat. The fact that he was gorgeous didn't matter, though I had to confess it didn't hurt. I had been lonely to the point of tears several times over the last few weeks, but there wasn't any reason to weep now. _Gods. Don't be ridiculous, girl, there's still things to do here; there's no time to be hysterical. He may not be hypothermic anymore, but he's not out of the woods yet. His color still stinks, his pulse is thready and his respiration is shallow and fast; he's going into shock again. He must be bleeding inside. What can I do? I'd read in some silly book or another that Jedi learned Force healing techniques in their training, and were able to help each other heal as well as to heal themselves. Well, if the Force was everywhere even I had some here and there. Perhaps if he could take some strength from me – it might be totally crazy, but it was worth a chance to help him. May fortune favor the foolish…_

"Take what you need," I said softly. "Let me help you to heal if I can." There was no logical reason for speaking, or trusting him, and even less to think there was anything else I could do for him. Logic and rationality had been thrown out the door with a clatter a month or so ago, and he was all I had. I didn't want to lose him, not now. Aside of the brief conversation we'd had, I'd nothing but my own hunches and feelings to go on, that was true. But I'd already made the decision; I knew in my bones that he was a good man, a Jedi knight. I believed him. More than that, he deserved as much help as I could give him. Anyone did, really. Good gravy, what am I thinking? Right. I have now officially taken leave of my senses – or perhaps that was what I did when I crawled into bed with the man. Well, let's fake it anyway. Maybe if I use some of the stuff from those wacko Therapeutic Touch classes? It works on cats and kids; I'll give it that. So I did my best to calm down and visualize the white light that had seemed so spacey and New-Age-y to me. I almost started giggling then. Nothing. I felt downright ridiculous, but sternly took myself to task. I really did believe in what the Jedi stood for. Truth, right, guarding the peace, those were important to me. I may not take myself very seriously, but that – I do. It was important enough to risk my ego and assumptions for, certainly. The Force was about as close to a religion as I had, after all, having taken a nosedive out of Catholicism at a young age.

_So, is the Force ridiculous? Not here, not now. Maybe nowhere. Just do it, Kyle, and don't think about it… Believe it. Here, the Force (woo-woo) is as real as rainy days; just adjust._

So I just did. I decided that I had to believe in it, just like you believed in fairies to save Tinkerbelle, as hard as I possibly could. I thought about warmth and love and comfort and healing energy moving from me to him, gently touching his chest, his shoulder, thinking of easing his pain and helping him to heal and be well, to be strong. Gradually as I got more relaxed I fancied that I could feel it, like a stream, and it seemed to be working, but it wasn't enough. He needed more than I had inside me, certainly. Okay, kid, now what? Well, if the Force is everywhere, then I should be able to ask for more. Where is it? I calmly reached out and asked for more as politely as I could, envisioning an opening door.

I got what I asked for. Amazing when that happens, and you're not ready for it.

I was once pulled from the shore in the undertow of a wave, and almost drowned, though I am an adequate – even a strong – swimmer. That's the nearest thing I had to compare to the sensation. I got lost – it wasn't physical, but it was my very being that was overwhelmed, my self. I felt as though my identity would be snuffed out by the sheer intensity of the life pouring through me, burning as it went, spinning me like flotsam in the overwhelming maelstrom of currents. Oh, no, not again. I've been there. I wasn't exactly afraid, though I knew I was in danger. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was unforgettable and not pleasant. It wasn't exactly like anything in my experience. Finally, I seemed to feel a hand reach out to me and close on my own, anchoring me. I drew myself in and clung like a limpet, trembling now myself._ Whatever I've done, I've kicked open the door, all right._ As I came back to where I actually was, it seemed to me that Qui-Gon had become more comfortable, more relaxed. His breathing evened out and he pulled me closer to him, as though he enjoyed the contact. I certainly did. Then a sudden wave of fatigue rolled over me as the adrenaline wore off, and I fell asleep.

I woke up awhile after dawn when the crate got warmer. In the diffuse light Qui-Gon looked better. He seemed to be breathing more easily and deeply and looked more comfortable overall. His color was better, his lips a normal pink and a bit of color in his cheeks. I very carefully disentangled myself from the rather improbable clinch we were in, hoping desperately that my errant urges hadn't gotten the better of me and made me inexcusably rude. He's a mess, too. Not surprising, that – he's been through a lot, it's easy to tell. _He needs to rest and I need to get my cotton pickin' hands off him. Lord, Lyn, what were you thinking?_

He was still sleeping soundly, and blessedly didn't stir when I got up and covered him again. He had no fever, and his pulse was even, strong, and steady at 62 – Good Lord, the last time I saw a well person with a pulse like that, he was a marathon runner. He's either really sick or in unbelievable shape… well, hell, he feels pretty damn good to me, if it comes to that.. Now, stop it, you idiot. You may just be lucky he didn't wake up. You should be ashamed of yourself. I decided to at least act professionally, and checked his other vital signs. If I hadn't seen it, I would never have believed it – everything else seemed fine, blood pressure and respirations normal. I was once more amazed. Anyone else would have needed a transfusion, or at least IV fluids, and a week or two of recuperation, possibly with a course of antibiotics for the inevitable infection of that dirty wound. I smoothed the hair from his forehead and face; he'd have a hell of a time getting all the crud out of his hair; I had the feeling that it hadn't been treated to repel dirt. He even had a bit of a smile on his face. I felt absurdly flattered for a moment.

Judging by the evidence, I decided that he was in incredible shape, had been able to heal himself, and I'd hope for the best. What he would need now is rest and good nutrition, and keeping the wounds and burns from getting infected. I might actually be able to do that, between all the rations and supplies I'd scavenged from the beach and judicious use of soap and water. I even had antibiotics if they were needed._ I doubt that. Maybe they're obsolete for Jedi._ I smiled. _What a lovely thought._ I crept out of the crate as quietly as I could to give him some quiet, leaving Slan happily purring away on his shoulder, after finding the sewing kit and snagging my clean clothes, which were now finally dry. No telling how long these would have to do, I should mend them so they won't disintegrate into tatters. The rip under the arm of this shirt leaves nothing to the imagination.

I stretched in the warm morning, and then I went and ran the inevitable errand, and washed my face in the stream. I brushed the dark wavy mop of my hair out and braided it so it would be out of my way. I had a headache and all my joints and muscles hurt, and I still felt tired and foggy, but most likely better than Qui-Gon did. I'd catch up on sleep when he felt better. I took some aspirin and lit the fire to heat some water for tea, and sat on a crate to mend my clothes.

It didn't take long to darn the holes, though the thread I used wasn't as good a match as I'd have liked. Like that matters… I resisted the urge to embroider a flower or something over it. _Can't spare the thread. Hey, maybe I should get his clothes and mend them too. I could embroider flowers on them… nah. He didn't seem the flower type. How about Hawaiian shirts? Negatory._ I was getting goofy, I decided, as I snorted at the picture in my head. Low blood sugar, maybe. Hell, he could wear a barrel if he wanted; he'd look great. Especially if he wasn't wearing much… or nothing at all. Oh, here we go again… don't go there, girl, there's no time for raging hormones now. What is this, a new form of PMS? I ate a piece of food bar, suddenly famished, and had a cup of tea and slowly felt better. Rationality. Not just a good idea anymore. A short time later, Slan came scampering out to me and began to pull on the hem of my shorts. I gave him a banana – he loved them – but he dropped it, stamped his foot, and tugged me toward the crate once more.

/_Come! _/ I heard inside my head, as plain as day. I shook my head, hard. _Why, you little stinker. Could you do that all along?_

"All right, all right, pal, I'm coming. Is there something wrong?" I quickened my pace. When I got to the crate I found out why Slan had been worried. Qui-Gon was twitching and moaning in his sleep, perhaps having a nightmare. _Gods, what could give a Jedi nightmares? Weren't they supposed to be able to control that kind of thing? He'd hurt himself again if that kept up; I'd have to wake him now. _I knelt beside him and took his hand. "Master Jinn, wake up. It's only a dream; it's all right. You're safe now. Qui-Gon – wake up –"

He sat bolt upright and opened his eyes, but it didn't seem that he saw me, perhaps still in the dream. The bleakness in his face tore my heart. What could do this to him? What could hurt him so?

"People – dying… I couldn't," he said. "I couldn't help them. Couldn't save them."

"Sometimes you can't," I replied, holding his long, callused hand in both my own, rubbing the back of it as his fingers curled to enclose mine. "Sometimes no one can. Sometimes all you can do is pick up the pieces and hope for the best. Jedi or not, you are only one man. Even you can't know or understand the reasons why, even if you have a direct pipeline to God." I couldn't help but remember seeing the Towers fall, and then going to help pick corpses and pieces of people and their lives from the twisted rubble in those awful days in September. Tears came to my eyes at the memory; it almost overwhelmed me. I shoved the image away ruthlessly. That hadn't happened for a long time, months. "You're away from there now. Are you cold? Your clothes are dry."

He blinked a couple of times, and finally focused. "Thank you. I – am sorry."

"No need," I said. "You've obviously been through the wringer, Master Jinn. Are you feeling better?"

He cleared his throat, and, seemingly backpedaling a bit, let go my hand after bowing over it in an oddly formal manner. "Much better, many thanks to you."

I shrugged. "I don't know about that, but I'm glad I could help. Do you mind if I take a look at your chest and shoulder, see how the burns and wounds are doing?"

He amiably allowed me to remove the dressings and take a look at him, and I was (unusually) speechless. All of the burns were covered by new, pink skin, and the deep wound in his shoulder was scarred over as well, deep red lines showing where the metal fragments had pierced his skin.

"This – is – is amazing," I finally stammered. "If you could bottle this you'd have wealth beyond the dreams of avarice."

"I know of few things beyond those," he replied, sadly.

"True enough. Well, so much for thinking you'd need any more treatment. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I have an assortment of oddments, and you're welcome to share."

He smiled, and slowly put on his undertunic, with a bit of my assistance to spare the sore shoulder. Somehow this attention was different from the strictly medical attention I'd given him before. He seemed embarrassed; he colored.

"Don't worry, I can take it," I said, dryly. "I've seen pictures." I gave him a hand up, and he seemed a bit uncomfortable. Of course, water pressure. Duh. "What passes for a privy is down the hill a bit, that way; you can see the tarp from here. Slan has a lively interest in human eliminatory function."

He chuckled. It was a real smile, and it looked much better after the pain I had seen earlier in his eyes. "Slan?"

"My sidekick, here. I don't quite know what he is, but he's fine company, and he's taken quite a liking to you. Do you need help or are you steady on your own? You did lose an awful lot of blood."

"No, I am fine, thank you. Slan is a Peroota Cat; they are often kept as pets by humans and other species. I will be back shortly."

I nodded. "Thanks, that's good to know. Be careful, I'll be right here. There's a stream near there, up the hill a bit – I don't know if the water is good to drink, but I do wash in it."

He nodded. Slan made an excited noise and skittered over to him, climbing his trouser leg. "Certainly you may come, little one," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. He understood Slan? Well. "He'll certainly have a better view on your shoulder," I said, smiling. "Behave yourself, buddy," I said. "I'm sure Master Jinn is still sore." Slan squeaked indignantly and I laughed. "Even I understood that," I said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"He will be fine," Qui-Gon replied, chuckling and allowing Slan to climb up to his good left shoulder. "He won't hurt me. Of course you understand him. He is telepathic and empathic, and so are you."

I dropped the blanket I'd been folding as he strode down the hill. "What?!" I bleated.

"You heard me," he said briskly. "I needn't repeat myself."

I sat down weakly. Great. Another paradigm shift…_no more for me, thanks, I'm driving_. Now I'm Jar-Jar. Mesa in BOMBAD trouble, boss Jedi Sir. _Now what do I do?_

I changed my clothes to the last clean ones that I'd just mended, washed up more thoroughly with the water I'd boiled, and was surprised to be a bit nervous about my appearance – sunburned, freckled, peeling, wavy dark hair with a bit of brassiness from the sun. Don't bother, girl. As long as I don't offend with the stench, I'm sure it won't matter. Stick to what's needed, the rest will just have to take care of itself. It was time to figure out what to feed this man, right now. If I wasn't totally out of my mind, he had lost a few pounds overnight. _I thought we had established that I was out of my mind_… His face seemed thin, even more angular. Not surprising; even if he had that much control over his body, energy and the materials still had to come from somewhere, and my bet was that he felt more than half starved. I refused to believe that Jedi could ignore the laws of physics –_ just bend them a bit, perhaps. Find loopholes, maybe._

I dragged out my stores and made a pot of tea. The British are amazingly civilized to their military in whatever world where the assemblage got lost, providing tea and metal billy pots, with tinned milk and sugar and biscuits and all – it had been my salvation during the horrible headaches I had had during my first week on the island (_thank God for the sun that never set…_). Then I dragged out a couple of MREs and even the C-rations I'd found. Some of them had manufacture dates that were a bit odd – like March 2015… and that wasn't the expiry, they had that, too. Yes, I was in the Twilight Zone. I'd become accustomed to odd things washing up on the beach or appearing in the woods. There were other things that had Aurebesh writing on them, that looked like rations as well, but since there were many races all over that galaxy, I wasn't about to eat them. Perhaps Qui-Gon could translate for me. There were other things, too, that I didn't understand, that weren't in Aurebesh, but we'd see what happened. I hoped there was something there that wouldn't poison him or hurt him – or that he would like.

I looked up and saw Qui-Gon sitting on his heels in a clearing nearby, eyes closed and still. He was meditating. Well. No telling how long he'd stay there. Respecting his need for reflection, I did my best to stay quiet and mended my other shorts, and took out my book to read a bit. Slan came over to me and curled up in my lap with a little tea in a small cup. He lapped it quietly as I skritched his ears. I suspected he drank the tea for the milk and sugar. He got his banana and ate that and some food bar, and we passed well over an hour in the warm sunshine.

I got a chance to look at Qui-Gon closely from my vantage point, for the first time, and I took unabashed advantage of it. It was a very pleasant sight. He sat, serene and relaxed, eyes closed, a small smile on his face. His hair and beard were much neater; I suspected he'd taken a moment to wash and straighten himself out as well. His hair was, understandably, still a bit of a mess, since he'd a sore shoulder and right side. Maybe he would let me help him, he shouldn't wait to untangle the knots. He seemed to be a younger man than the character I recalled from _The Phantom Menace_; there was no silver in his hair or beard, which were both a deep warm brown, with some deep golden highlights that reminded me of amber in the sun. _Well, he certainly cleans up well_. He was such a big man – he sat straight and tall, and I had been right the night before. He _was_ striking; certainly better looking than Liam Neeson, despite the rather rugged appearance of a man who was tough and strong – and someone you didn't want to cross. Perhaps it was something to do with the shape of his chin, or the cheekbones, or the hidden lines of laughter beneath other lines that were more severe. That didn't matter, though; the main beauty of him wasn't from the outside. Despite holding himself with the sureness and grace of an athlete, a martial arts master (which he most certainly was), he seemed to radiate peace and contentment, and a muted but palpable joy in life itself, despite the situation. That may have been why he wasn't frightening or intimidating in spite of his sheer bulk. _He must be a magnet for children, animals, whatever, just because of the sheer pleasure of his presence. _He'd certainly had that effect on Slan, who'd wiggled with joy at his smile earlier. His skin was a light gold, and his eyelashes shadowed his cheeks softly as he raised his face to the sun.

I wondered what he felt in his meditation, what it gave him that I couldn't hope to understand. I'd played hob with every attempt I'd made at meditating, I just didn't seem to get it. He, on the other hand, seemed to need it more than he needed food or drink, and I couldn't understand that. If he was as sensitive as the Jedi were reputed to be, he must need it for balance, to find out what he must do, what his duty was. To find out what the Will of the Force was._ Imagine, being able to know the will of God directly. Such an amazing and bittersweet thing that must be._ That idea boggled my mind, but suddenly another wiser part of me spoke_. Can't we all discover the will of God if we really listen? Or if we follow what we know is right? The trick is listening to the Truth rather than one's fears or ego, I suppose. And he was trained from infancy to do that. I wonder what that was like? _I abruptly had the picture of an exuberant, smiling child in my mind, rawboned and thin with long legs, huge blue eyes, a big smile, an open heart, and a burning desire to ease all suffering, to be a knight and guard the peace. _Something happened to him to change that; I wonder what it was? Something happens to all of us, I suppose. It's part of growing up. Perhaps in a way one must trade innocence for wisdom and compassion. I know I've found even my tiny exchange worth it. What has he seen? Perhaps he'll tell me about some of it._

I tried to recall where I'd seen that kind of peaceful and centered groundedness before, and then it hit me. A few years before, I had had the good fortune to hear the Dalai Lama lecture at the University. He had been well over 60 when I'd seen him, but he had an open wonder that seemed almost childlike – except that it was incredibly wise, serene, and compassionate, accepting. The only 'jewelry' I'd saved was the prayer beads that he'd blessed for me. His given name, I recalled, meant "Ocean of Wisdom". Was this what I saw here? The one-in-billions soul who could not only feel the light but commune with it, discern its meaning and its direction and desire, and guide people to peace? The product of a lifetime of training and dedication and divine favor, was he a saint, a Bodhisattva? I didn't know. He didn't seem like those wimpy saints who stood in the arenas and let the lions eat them, certainly – he'd be something more muscular, maybe like Saint George, slaying dragons.

I somehow felt, though, that thinking of him in that way would somehow do injustice to the man I saw before me. He was, most important, human, not an icon or a concept but a living, breathing being. I liked the idea that this was someone I very much wanted to know and understand, not a tarnished face on a scapular or a flat image on a movie screen. _I looked in my bag for the card I carried with the Eight Verses for Training the Mind. Yep, there was the first one. "By thinking of all sentient beings as even better than the wish-granting gem for accomplishing the highest aim may I always consider them precious." That was it. He was – precious, better than all the wishes, fantasies, and longings I could have. Odd, that it was so easy to see him so. One had to think of all sentient beings as precious for the thing to work. I guess I'd need to practice that more, especially in a Galaxy where there were so many different kinds of sentient beings, perhaps of sentience itself. Attitude adjustment time, I guessed. That is, if it's not another moot point. This could all be wrong. Wouldn't I feel silly then?_

_So, he's younger. Intriguing. What does that mean? Could his life be different from the story I know? What a thought. His life didn't need to end on a cold reactor floor on Naboo._ The Sith didn't need to rise again – hell, Palpatine might not even have become a Sith yet. Or maybe there was a way to trump the rotten bastard. _But how could I tell him? Should I tell him? Should I tell anyone? If so, whom should I tell? Yoda? The Council? Oh, Gods, save me from the Jedi Council. I'm having enough trouble with this. But he's most likely going to have to explain me somehow. I don't think I could handle the Spanish Inquisition, though I expect I'm in for it anyway. Am I to become one of those pathetic lifeforms that Qui-Gon adopts? Well, the whole point may be moot. But it may not – and there may be a reason for my presence here. It would be a bit easier if I could understand what the hell it is…_

He rose from his meditation and squared his shoulders, looking refreshed and somehow less tentative than he had before. He seemed much more comfortable and settled now, and he smiled as he walked briskly toward me.

"Looks like you're ready to rassle alligators," I said. I got a quizzical look. "Oh, dear. An alligator is a very large carnivorous reptile that lives in large rivers in the place where I'm from. I'll have to watch the slang, I guess. No matter. Are you hungry, Master Jinn? I've some warm tea here, made from a slightly bitter herb that has a mild stimulant quality to it. There are really nasty but nutritious food bars, bananas – these fruit here, which are also nutritious, and assorted rations, also from my place of origin..." I actually blushed. Poor guy, he's going to want to get to the other end of the island if you keep this up. "I'm blathering at you, I'm sorry."

"That's all right. No need to call me Master Jinn, my name is Qui-Gon. I am not your master. After last night, I think we must be friends."

"I certainly hope so," I replied, grinning. "I'm not in the habit of getting in bed with enemies. Call me Lyn. I'm glad you're doing well, I've never seen anything like it."

"Indeed, I didn't expect so much improvement in such a short time, either. I appreciate the help you gave me. Are you quite all right? Headache, fatigue?"

"A bit. You see, something entered the atmosphere over my head in the middle of the night… it was pretty loud. I'm glad I found you. Later, you developed severe hypothermia; that was the only warmth I could give you. No sense in wasting it, and you even seem to respect me in the morning. You scared the hell out of me, I was afraid you would die. I did what was needed, what I had to do."

His ears seemed to color a bit, but it was hard to tell under the hair. "Not many people would have known that, or how to lend me the further help that you so generously gave. You are not trained as a Healer."

"Me? Well, in a way – I'm an Emergency Medical Technician where I came from, but I think you aren't referring to that. To what other help do you refer? I was just thinking good thoughts, mostly. I thought I had imagined the rest of it."

He reached forward and took my chin in a gentle hand. I colored under the scrutiny, so close and thorough as to be painful. I got the sense that it was important, that he needed to know about me as he once more looked into me, seemingly down to the bottom of my soul. I held his eyes, doing my best not to resist the probe I felt that was like nothing I'd ever experienced in my life. I just did my best to open up, since I suspected it would do no good to resist even if I did know how. He had to see me as I was, to trust me, and I him. I knew he wasn't trying to hurt me, but I trembled anyway with the effort at allowing this invasion. And I was worried about him seeing a rip in my shirt… I had a sense of him through the link he forged, and I let him know who I was.

Finally he broke the contact, and took my hand once more as I shook my head to clear it, and looked up at him. "I – apologize, Belinda. You certainly didn't imagine the energy you tried to lend me last night. Have you ever been told before that you were telepathic? Empathic? A Healer?"

"I'm afraid that telepathy and empathy aren't recognized talents where I come from, Qui-Gon. As a matter of fact, if I went to someone and claimed to be telepathic, I'd likely have been put in a mental institution. They would have given me medication to cure my delusion. It makes me wonder if some of those folks might have been telepathic."

"So this is a new phenomenon to you?" he asked. "Fascinating. You've been here for awhile, haven't you?"

"Well, about six or seven of my weeks, two cycles of these moons, roughly. You're in trouble; I haven't had anyone to talk to but Slan for most of that time. He's sweet, but he lacks something in the conversation department, I'm afraid." I grinned. "Well, at least that I can understand." That got another devastating smile. I'd have to watch my heart rate around this man; he had an effect on my metabolism. I poured him some tea. "Do you like your tea sweet? This is sugar – sucrose, specifically."

He nodded, and took the tea and doctored it. "Thank you. You've been most kind."

"Glad I could help. I'm assuming you don't read this alphabet. I have absolutely no idea what these are, since they're labeled in Aurebesh and I don't know that alphabet. I was hoping you might be willing to translate. There are other things here in neither script, but I won't be the first."

He chuckled, took a food bar, and took a bite. His expression smoothed out and I gathered that he didn't like it. He took a few swallows of tea and quickly washed it down.

"Don't worry – Slan loves the food bars, he'll finish it if you don't like it. I warned you. These are much better. You can even heat them in some of the hot water here, if you like... I've never had any such experience before. When we met and even now, when you looked at me, I felt that you knew everything about me, but I had no rational reason to think that you could do any such thing. I'd never heard of anything like it in the real world."

"What is this?" He'd picked up an MRE, and I peered at it.

"Oh, that's ham and eggs. Ham is smoked meat. There are potatoes there, too, a starchy vegetable. Probably better heated up. It has chili peppers in it, it may be a bit spicy." He smiled enigmatically and put the pouch in the boiling water. "Watch it carefully, you only need to heat it up for a few minutes. The other thing MRE stands for is 'Meal Ready to Explode', according to my friends in the military."

He chuckled again. Lord love a man who laughs at your jokes. "I can see it could be a problem. How did you come to be here? Where are you from?"

_Ah, those are the thorny questions, aren't they? Well, I can't resist._ "Most likely, a long time in the future in a galaxy far, far away."

He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like – fiction. A fairy tale or myth."

"Could be. It gets sticky now, you see. There are – stories, where I'm from, about the Republic, about the Jedi. Even about you. Though I have no way of knowing if these portray the Republic or you fairly or accurately, they color my perception of you. In these stories, the Jedi are protectors, guardians of the Peace, servants of the Republic for a thousand generations. Jedi are powerfully connected to the Force. They are trained as warriors and diplomats and healers, and out of the trillions of beings in the Republic there are only thousands of them. How close am I so far?" I looked into my cup of tea as though I could read it, afraid of the answer. _Some Rom you are. Can't even tell the present, much less the future._

"Fairly," he said. He took the retort out of the water, and I handed him the plate and silverware. "You should eat, too," he said, and began to tuck away the food hungrily. No surprise there. I pulled some biscuits and other goodies out for him; he'd likely still be hungry after that.

"I already had something," I replied. "Don't worry, I've a few reserves to spare. I'm a little shaken up, you understand. How I got here isn't straightforward," I continued. "I was on a cruise, traveling on a boat in part of my world known for unusual disappearances and strange phenomena. There was a storm, and the ship sank. I was put in a boat and – everyone else was lost when it rolled under the water. I couldn't help them – I don't know how I managed to survive myself, in the boat, but they were all lost, and the water was very cold. It was madness, and very strange. Something odd happened during the trip. The compass went crazy and I became very dizzy and woke up someplace different, that being here. I didn't believe it immediately, but it was pretty plain when two moons rose two nights later. That's when I had hysterics."

"Your world only has one moon?" He asked.

"Yes. And my culture is not really – spacefaring, I guess you'd call it. We've only gotten as far as our moon, about a quarter million miles away. We've sent probes to explore the rest of our system. Our moon is quite large; my planet is really more like a binary system. The star is a yellow dwarf, if I recall my astronomy correctly. It's nothing out of the ordinary. There are eight planets in the system, an asteroid belt, and a few captured bodies in the periphery of the system. We've never encountered another intelligent species that the general population knows of, though there are plenty of stories about it."

"About the Republic."

"And about other civilizations, too. There's no end of science fiction stories about other civilizations, encountering aliens and either fighting them or befriending them. There are even conspiracy theories that we have met aliens but the government is keeping it a secret. I don't know if I believe them or not. But the Republic was one of the most popular stories, along with a United Federation of Planets, a much younger civilization, a more uneasy alliance. Books, movies, television – all sorts of mass media depict many such civilizations."

He nodded. "And what else do your home's mass media depict?"

"Oh, the usual. The majority of it is stuff like mindless pseudo-entertainment pap filled with sex and violence in living color for the lowest common denominator. Dumbed-down news laced with sex and violence in living color for the lowest common denominator. Idiotic sports and game shows with themes of sex and violence – you get the idea, I'm sure. Like that."

He snorted. "Then it is much like our own," he said. "But most systems in the Republic are holographic."

"Oh, so you not only get your sex and violence in living color, but also at any angle you like? Woo hoo. Exciting. Think I'll stick to books, thanks. I'll have to learn to read your alphabet, though. All in good time, I suppose."

He quirked a half smile which included his eyes. He must have liked the response. "I'd be glad to teach you how to read Aurebesh, if time permits. However, I must go back to my escape pod. Will you accompany me?"

"Of course. I hope there's enough of it left to repair, but I doubt it. What happened, Qui-Gon? While you were having your nightmare you mentioned people dying and not being able to help. It sounded awful."

"It was – terrible," he said quietly. "Roon was a colony where a mineral resource was discovered that is valuable to certain planets in the Republic. The Trade Federation, which owned the mineral rights to the colony, decided that the colonists there had to leave in order for the mineral to be mined – efficiently. The colonists applied to work at the mines, for a better living, and were going to bring the case to the Senate for mediation."

_Was. Were. Trade Federation. Connect the dots, Kyle, this doesn't sound good. _"Does 'efficiently' translate to 'in a manner incompatible with the life and health of the colonists'?" I asked.

"How perceptive of you," he said, with a grim twitch of his mouth. Well, that explained the avarice remark. He's right, whoever has the gold makes the rules as often as not. And one Jedi might not make that much of a difference when the legalities are on the side of Engulf and Devour, Inc. _Well, pass the Absorbine; I need some for my tonsils. After I get my toes out of them, that is._

"And then what?" I asked, following his long, quick strides at a half-trot over the ridge toward the site where his pod had come down. It was round and didn't seem very aerodynamic, but it was in surprisingly good shape. He looked around the pod, beginning to collect things he needed and putting them in a pack. I saw the console that had buckled under some kind of stress and pierced his shoulder as he was pitched forward onto the control panel. There was a fair bit of dried blood on it. He pursed his lips at it, and I saw a sad look cross his face.

"An extremist group who was against the mineral operation bombed the mine and released about a cubic kilometer of highly toxic material into the atmosphere. We had all we could do to get the children into transports before the atmosphere poisoned them irrevocably. We don't even know if many of them will recover. I'm afraid that most of the adults – will not survive." He said it neutrally, but I could feel the horror of the crime from him, and the children's terror as they were loaded. See the sorrow of their parents, the agony of the Jedi who had to choose who would stay and who would go, who would live and who would die, and watching the older, weaker ones sicken and die before their eyes. I had tears, and swallowed hard.

"Oh, my God, Qui-Gon," I said, hoarse. I felt a surge of rage at these fools who would kill a whole planet to further their ends, and my head began to ache. "That is awful. And how is it that you were in this lifepod?"

"I found and boarded the ship that the terrorists had commandeered. Rather than be taken to the colonial governor's office, they had the ship self-destruct, and escaped in the lifepods. I suspect that they had another ship waiting just out of transponder range. I managed to salvage the data from the communications and navigation computers after a short – dispute. My pod's receiver picked up something on this planet and homed in on it. If no one landed here shortly after I did, then they won't be able to follow me immediately."

"Most likely what it picked up is the radio beacon that came with the emergency kit in the life raft. I can't turn the bloody thing off, but I'm thinking a good-sized rock would make short work of it."

"Perhaps. Beacons are often made to withstand great forces, however."

"True. But I doubt any of our alloys could stand up to a blaster bolt or a lightsabre. You're the expert, of course…"

He nodded. "Indeed. We shall see what can be done." He picked up a small console-looking thing and several other small objects that looked like they might be data storage, and put them in a bag that seemed to hold his odds and ends, and even some extra clothing.

"Is there anything else you might need from that pod?" I asked.

"I doubt it," he said.

"Could anyone track you by it?" He raised an eyebrow and flipped out his 'sabre and thumbed on the blade, emerald green and pulsing with a power I couldn't strictly perceive with my usual senses.

_Oh, my God, that's a lightsabre! A real one! How cool is that?_… I could smell a bit of ozone and feel the hum through my teeth. _Oh, wow, that is just so cool…_ Quick as a flash he cut through a panel on the port side of the pod.

"Not now," he said. "I have a separate beacon for the Jedi Temple, by the way. It transmits on a special frequency. Quick thinking."

I nodded. Now my head was pounding abominably. "Um, thanks. Just being my usual paranoid self. Like I said, I'm not much good in a scrap, so I have to be prepared. I prefer patching wounds to causing them, anyway. Speaking of that, how is the shoulder?"

"It will serve. How are you?" he asked, looking at me with some concern.

"I have a – headache. I've had them fairly often lately. It will pass, they usually do." Suddenly I had an idea. _Treat it kindly, Lyn, it's in a strange place... Here goes nothing. Maybe I can put a wind up about the Trade Federation. If it were the same one, this would be just their style..._ "By the way, Qui-Gon, that was an amazingly convenient explosion, wasn't it?" I asked.

He stopped dead and looked at me carefully. I was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. "Indeed. I think so, too, Belinda."

A word to the wise is usually sufficient, and Qui-Gon was certainly wiser than I. Follow the money from there, and I'm sure the filthy truth will out. _Sweet Lord, these bastards make Al-Qaeda look like babes in the woods. How? I don't understand how any being could do this…_ The sun began to be far too bright, hurting my eyes, and my head began to throb abominably at the thought. I almost ran back to the shade of the trees, and began to shake and was overcome by nausea. Slan ran over to me and climbed up to my shoulder, patting my face and making distressed sounds as I threw up. My nose started to bleed, too.

"This isn't just a headache," Qui-Gon said, catching up with me.

"No," I stammered, trying to speak. "They c-call it m-migraine where I'm f-from. I – I u- usually have s-some w-warning." He took my shoulders as I retched in a dry heave and I could feel him reach out as he tried to find what was wrong, putting a hand on my forehead. That hurt too. "No – no, please – don't – " I couldn't bear the idea of him probing me again like that. I held on to the tree as the ground lurched under me.

"You need to lay down," he said. "Maybe I can help you."

"D-dark… light h-hurts –"

He frogmarched me to the crate double quick, and I almost took a header into the pallet. Slan had a lot to say about that to Qui-Gon, too.

"I know, little one," he said. I wasn't sure whether he meant Slan or me, and I curled up away from the light so it wasn't quite so agonizing. "I'll see what I can do." All I wanted was for the pain to go away, or to go to sleep. Or maybe to die.

"Please," I whispered. "Please – p-please g-go 'way… I'll be – all right – " I shrank from him, I just wanted to be left alone. Qui-Gon knelt next to me and reached out to touch my head gently. Though his hands were warm, they seemed to spread a coolness through my head that stung, but then seemed to ease the pain somewhat. He ran gentle hands through my hair and over my forehead, temples, and cheekbones, gently finding muscle spasms and aches and massaging my head and neck. _How can such a big man have such gentle hands?_ I wondered absently. _I guess it's true that it takes a strong man to know how to be gentle._

"This is no ordinary headache, Lyn," he said, drawing my head to his lap. I could hear his voice down to my toes. "Relax. Clear your mind."

"N-not very g-good at that," I said. True enough, I'd never gotten the hang of it at all. I'm a doing person, not a contemplative one. All my efforts at meditation had ended in giggles or a nap.

"Even so," he said. I could hear a bit of a smile in his voice, and then it became even more soothing. "You must still this storm in your thoughts and emotions. This rage is of the Dark Side." I realized then that he wasn't physically speaking at all. It was a warm sensation, harrowingly intimate. He was stroking my hair gently, to soothe me.

_How? It's so – those people, they hurt so many others, how could they do that? How could **anyone** do that? I don't understand _– It was easier than trying to speak myself. Then I felt him reach to me, and he gave me comfort, as I had tried to comfort him that morning. I felt safe and warm, like a protected child, and I finally relented and held on.

(_I know you don't. We needn't comprehend. We are safe now. I will help you._) And sure enough, he did. He helped me calm my monkey mind, showing me very directly that it didn't matter if I was thinking, but that I had to be the observer, to know that the process occurred. I didn't have to be perfect, just – quiet. I am not good at quiet, that will be a neat trick. I don't do quiet. I expected that it would never be an easy thing for me to do, but now I knew it was possible. I felt like the half-wit cousin from West Virginia next to his calm certainty.

The pain began to recede, and he stayed with me. (_You must find your center. You can only help others if you leave your fear and anger behind and not let it control you._)

_Yes, Master_, I twigged him. He'd taken a downright didactic tone. _Aren't I a bit old to be a Padawan?_

(_Indeed you are,_) he replied, and I could feel a mental smile that seemed quite sweet. He seemed a good bit less stiff and formal this way. (_But I will do as I must. This is taught to toddlers in the crèche._)

_Sorry, we don't teach our children meditation techniques. Doubtless it would be a good idea, but that would be quite a change in childrearing culture._

He chuckled warmly, both verbally and mentally. It was like quicksilver warmth flashing through me, I liked the feeling. (_Perhaps you can bring that to your children. For now, we need to find your center. Think of a safe place, one where you feel good…_)

He took me through the most basic of centering exercises – one at which I'd failed extravagantly so many times before. At least I didn't giggle. I goofed up a few times now, but finally I got to a place where I could feel more calm. He showed me that the anger caused the pain, because it let in the dark side.

_The dark side of what? Of me? Of the Force? I don't really understand that._ He helped me begin to learn how to give it up and let it be taken away by what I felt through his mind and perceptions was the Force – and rather than the chaotic maelstrom I had felt the night before, he was anchored and safe in it. He allowed himself to be the window that the light came through for me, to ease my pain. It was an entirely different way to perceive reality – not as things and organisms strictly, but as pieces of one whole; I'd only had the remotest glimmering of it the night before in my desperate attempt to help him. It had actually given him a boost when he'd needed it, and he had known what I was attempting to do as I'd done it. It had, however, been very foolish. It had touched him that I would risk that for him.

_I had no idea – but I had to decide. Either trust you or not. I felt I could trust you. Lucky me._

(_There's no luck, not really. We are here because it is the Will of the Force._)

_I wonder how I rated the divine intervention? Thank you._

(_You must rest now. I will watch.)_ And at a suggestion from him, I fell into a black sleep and all the rest of the pain and fear just went away. I couldn't even make a wise remark about him using the same words I did.

Rats.


	3. Chapter 3

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

I awoke an hour or so later, refreshed and without pain. It was close to noon local, by the sun's angle on my pallet. I did feel a bit oddly, though. At first I couldn't put my finger on it, but even without opening my eyes the light seemed to be somehow different, as though the sun were shining more intensely, if that were possible. It didn't hurt anymore; it was blessedly comfortable to lie there for a few moments and absorb what was going on, what had happened.

What had happened? Oh, yes, I'd stepped a few more parsecs into the Twilight Zone, collected and applied first aid to a Jedi Master. Oh, my God, that still sounded like I had developed the mental never-get-overs. First he'd freaked me out in several ways, starting with his very existence, and then he'd helped me with a whopper howling barking-at-ants migraine and nosebleed. _Yuck, what a mess. Did that make me a pathetic life form?_ I sure felt like one. Now, though, I did feel much better, and I'd be malingering if I lay around any more. There was doubtless something I should be doing. I decided against opening my eyes immediately, but sat up slowly and shook my head. I felt disoriented, as though I had new senses that I'd never used before. I could smell the scent of flowers and plants in the air and the dry palm fronds of the pallet beneath me, and a clean, very pleasant male scent that I recognized as Qui-Gon; I could hear the rustle of the nylon parachute cloth I'd used for the mattress cover, and taste the salt metallic tang of my blood still in my nose and mouth. **_Yuck._** I pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket and blew my nose and wiped up. Oh, well, no illusions. I was never the glamorous type anyway. At least it's stopped bleeding. I was almost overwhelmed by the all things I could feel. The fresh breeze was a caress to my face; the sun warmed my hand, the air sang as it moved in and out of my lungs. It was dizzying to be suddenly so aware. I could sense the life all around me, vibrant and shining by a mode of perception beyond any normal sense that I could recall.

I could feel Qui-Gon, too. There was a sense of well-controlled power, lively quick intelligence and gentle humor, the essential sweetness of soul I hadd felt before that shone bright and pure, undimmed by experience. I sensed the ghosts of mixed emotions; did he resent me? No, but he was doubtful, apprehensive, even sad when it came to me. I hastily withdrew, feeling even more disoriented than before. I'd never imagined how complex he was, never even considered it.

_And, of course, now there is no way that I can hide that he makes me feel like a giddy hormonal teenager when I see him. The gig is up. Oh, well, when all else fails, tell the truth. It can't be the first time, I'm sure he's used to it by now._ I couldn't imagine what color I'd turned. Puce, maybe.

I finally opened my eyes and saw that the object of my speculation was sitting outside the door, calmly mending his tunic. He'd neatly darned the undertunic, which he was wearing. His datapadd lay by his side, the chips that I assumed were storage devices stacked on top of it. He was again a peaceful and very pleasant sight. I saw him, in a way I'd never seen anyone before. _Aura. Am I seeing his aura here?_ All I could think of was the light that Tolkien had described around the elves, golden, green, and pure, but even that could only crudely approximate the beauty revealed to me. Slan sat with him, batting at his tunic a bit. I could see blue and gold flashes around him, not as strong but certainly lovely in his own right._ Didn't know you did your own tailoring, but whatever works, I guess._

(_Indeed, little one. I am glad you feel better._)

I startled at the direct contact, gentle as it was. _This is telepathy, straight and in a dirty glass; kind of feels like a big swallow of potcheen. Complete with the stomach lurch and vertigo.  
_

I could feel him chuckle as the warm sound came to my ears. There was that sweet quicksilver feeling again. He enjoyed my humor, at least now and then. He raised his eyes and I was actually able to briefly see myself through his eyes -- a vibrant thing blazing with a bright rainbow of colors, with dark auburn hair, hazel eyes, a sunburned freckled nose, and satisfactory curves in the correct places. Hm. Must've lost a few pounds over the last weeks after all.

_But I don't look like that!_

"You do, to me," he said. I startled again at his voice, though he spoke softly. I hated to think of the color I was now. But I was also a bit relieved -- feeling the thoughts, though wondrous, had also been uncomfortable and even a bit frightening because of the perceived loss of self. I could distract myself by the sound of his voice. I went to him and he looked up at me, and I could detect a trace of amusement in his demeanor.

"What -- has happened to me?" I asked, hoarse.

"You had no shields," he said. "Not even the simple ones untrained telepaths can construct. I have brought you inside mine."

I swallowed hard. "Qui-Gon, I told you that I've never been telepathic before I came to this place. Perhaps a bit empathic, but not like this. I -- I'm sorry. Does this hurt you, to have me inside your shields?"

"Don't worry," he replied. "We will start by teaching you to build your own shields to compensate."

I nodded. "Sounds like a logical plan to me," I replied. "I'm hungry, how about you?"

"Yes, you must eat. Are you still feeling nauseated?" _Bless him; he was holding himself apart from me a bit. At least there could be some privacy._

Slan looked up at me quizzically. /_Lyn okay?_ / He asked.

_Fine, sweetie_, I directed at him. He made a happy wiggle.

_/Talk good now, very smart. Share cookie? _/

"Of course, if you're hungry. Sorry I was so dumb before, pal." He jumped up to my shoulder and nuzzled. "No, I'm fine now." I reached out and touched Qui-Gon's chest before he rose. The contact was a shock, but it was good, too. He took my hand, seeming a bit startled. "Thank you. I expect you've saved my life.'

"Hardly," he replied, looking down away from my eyes.

_I do believe you're dissembling a bit, there, Master Jinn..._ "Come on. If contact with one very disciplined Jedi a bit ragged at the edges makes me collapse, what would have happened if I was rescued and brought to a populated place? And if I hadn't been found, I wouldn't have been able to survive very long, I'm sure. Dumb luck, a few useful skills, and sheer stubborn bullheadedness got me this far, I don't think I could have counted on them much longer. One accident, a large predator or being so lonely I just didn't give a damn anymore -- and poof... Don't know if I'm quite ready for that yet. I may not stand that much more of a chance now, but I feel a hell of a lot better. Thank you."

"No, Belinda, it was not only contact with me that triggered your pain. If it had been that, you would have been unable to help me even as much as you did. It was your own anger. I do not know how yet, but we will find out. Perhaps we can start with the subject of the anger."

"My own anger?" I repeated. "I knew I had a hell of a temper, but -- wow. And why did this never happen before?"

"Perhaps it did. Did you have these -- headaches -- often, before you came here?"

"Occasionally. They were often associated with my hormonal cycle. Of course, so were attacks of temper." I smiled ruefully. "And they never solved any problems, or did anything but get me in trouble."

He smiled. "That is merely a slight nutritional imbalance that can be easily corrected. When did these headaches come?"

"Premenstrually, with the attacks of temper, now that I think of it. Usually when I couldn't say or do anything to change an unacceptable situation. It was always put down to 'hormones', but the hormonal state didn't change the anger, just my way of coping, I guess." I sighed. "No-win situations a specialty. Also hopeless causes."

There was a sad smile on his face. "Indeed. I know the feeling."

"So, how can I stop this? Surely I can't just stop being angry, that's part of being human."

"You can learn to release your anger before it does you harm and clouds your thinking. You can learn to listen to the Force so you know the difference between what you can do and what you can't. You can learn to control your reactions so you can act in accordance with those facts and instructions."

_That was a tall order_. I took a deep breath. "Now, why do I get the impression that it's not as simple as you say?" I asked.

He chuckled. ⌠Because it's not a state of being, it is a -- process. A way of being ready, of correct orientation."

_**Huh? ** What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ "Well, I didn't think that it was something that could be picked up overnight."

"Certainly not," he said. "But we must begin nonetheless, or there will be serious consequences. That anger is of the Dark Side, and it could be fatal, or worse."

I rolled my eyes. _Oh, dear, here we go. **The Dark Side, A Fate Worse than Death.**_ I didn't remember that he could listen in.

"It is best not to joke about such things in ignorance, Belinda," he said.

"I'm sorry. I meant no offense, really. I am, however, skeptical."

He nodded. "I would expect nothing less," he said. I was surprised that he didn't ask me to take it on faith.

"Good. You've got my number, then. By the way, what did you find out about that explosion?" I asked.

"There are some very disturbing entries on these records, as a matter of fact. You needn't concern yourself, however."

"I needn't concern myself. First you tell me that several thousand people died, and then you say that I needn't concern myself? Qui-Gon, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Please, tell me what's going on. It may help to have someone to bounce facts off of, even though I'm totally ignorant."

He sighed. "Very well. These comm chips record transmissions between the Free Roon Party and a corporation called Offworld Mining, which has promised to include the colonists in the mining operations, and has provided funding for the activities of the party." _ Offworld? Where have I heard that name? No matter._

"And the explosives themselves?" I asked cautiously.

"Odd that you should ask. It seems that Offworld supplied them as well. They were supposed to be simple percussive devices, not meant to contaminate the atmosphere. However, the pattern of dispersal isn't compatible with a simple device of the sort. I have also discovered records that indicate Offworld's financial dealings with the Trade Federation itself."

I took a deep breath. "Follow the money, is that it? Must be all those detective novels I read as a kid. A big double cross. Take care of both the radicals and the colonists all at once, with an 'accident', or maybe call it a 'terrorist attack', so they're not liable. You don't have to pay droids, do you?" I closed my eyes and a great grief came over me, and I could feel a tear roll down my cheek. "That's horrifying, Qui-Gon. Those poor people."

"Yes. It is -- almost unthinkable." I heard the great sadness in his voice and knew that he had felt it even more than I could imagine. _I wish I could get to that kind of acceptance_.

"How can it be prevented in the future? Can these corporations be monitored more carefully?"

"Obviously, we must. But the Trade Federation is very powerful, and has its own representation in the Senate."

"Is that like buying a borough or something? That might be sticky."

"Very much so, on both counts."

"And it can't be stopped short of dismantling the whole Federation, right? And that would only create a vacuum that would draw more corruption?"

He nodded. "Astute of you."

"Too many PoliSci courses. So, better the devil you know. No," I said, in response to the sharp look. "I don't think I have the energy to develop much of a head of steam. But -- " I shook my head. "I'm glad you made the connections, it may be possible to stop them somehow." I lit the stove and put the pot on to boil again and had a stray thought. "Qui-Gon, will something I eat bother you?" I asked, as I rummaged through the pile of MREs.

"Only if it causes you distress," he said.

"Oh, like heartburn or something. Good point, I wouldn't have thought of that. The last thing you need is my indigestion or belly gas."

"I agree," he said, with a smile.

"Then you'd better take less than a week or so at teaching me to build shields or you'll have other abdominal distress to deal with. Here -- this is macaroni and cheese with broccoli, a green vegetable. It even has orange cake for dessert. I think you might like it." He gave me another sharp look, and nodded._ How did I know he had a sweet tooth? Well, he's male, that's a start._ I dumped the pouches for the main dish and veggies into the water to heat up and took out some water to drink, handed him some because I knew he was thirsty, too. "So," I said, after I drank some, "how long will we be living in each other's skin?'

He quirked the half smile that I was beginning to find quite endearing and very aggravating. "Long enough for you to build your own shields," he said, patiently. "It is a variable process. What are these?" he asked, as I handed him a plate, utensils, and seasonings.

"This is salt, this is a spice we call pepper, and this is Tabasco sauce. It's spicy, because some folks might consider this bland. I usually use it, but I think I'll skip it this time. I'm having enough trouble with overload as it is. You're trained to use your senses like this, aren't you? From a very young age."

"Yes," he said. "It is disturbing to you."

"Not exactly, it makes sense, really. This is going to be quite an adventure." I grinned up at him. "And it's only lunchtime. Are your days often like this, Master Jinn?" I handed him the pouches.

He snorted. "Not exactly, but they are this busy far too often," he replied. We fell to after that, we were both very hungry. Slan didn't care for the macaroni, but he ate the broccoli and peaches gladly, and the piece of cake I broke off for him. I handed the rest of my cake to Qui-Gon.

"I don't need this," I said, at his quizzical look. "As I said, I have considerable reserves. You seem to appreciate it. Wait until I find the pineapple upside down cake. Jedi with a sweet tooth, film at eleven." I teased gently. Oddly, he seemed reassured. _He's got me down already. Fine judge of human nature, he is. And likes people even so._

He urged me to drink some more, and we went for a walk along the beach. He was content to be silent and leave me a little space to think, and Slan chattered at me happily, delighted that I could finally understand him. He jumped from one of our shoulders to the other occasionally, looking like he'd been given a pound of candy all at once. As Qui-Gon was able to shield his thoughts from me more readily, it seemed that I became more aware of his emotions. He mostly had them under tight rein, and I admired his control, but I could feel traces, shades of them as they went by him. He was delighted by the life on the island, and told me the names of some of the plants he recognized. I also knew that his shoulder still pained him to some extent, but that he felt reasonably well otherwise. We didn't go far that day, but he found a peaceful spot near the water and we settled there. It was pleasant and warm, and we started the work of teaching me to do my own centering, my own shielding. Mostly, Slan napped in the warm sun.

It was difficult work. I am not a contemplative person by nature. My motto is, "Do something. If that doesn't work, do something else. Shake it loose until something happens." And now, I was being told to do_ nothing,_ and that that was the only way I could be free of these murmurings, these voices, these weird sensations, these things in my head that would otherwise drive me out of my mind. I knew that it was a strain for Qui-Gon to keep me protected, that it distracted him from using the beacon to hail the Jedi, that it used up energy reserves he should be using to heal his shoulder and the sore burning heartache of the horrible end of that doomed mission. I hoped I could help him. _He had to do something about those unspeakable people who regarded the lives of thousands of colonists as nothing but collateral damage. _

"Be mindful of your thoughts," he said, sharply. "Such anger has no power for good."

I nodded. "I know," I said, "but it is still a difficult lesson. I am doing my best, Master."

"I am not your Master," he said, automatically and fairly vehemently. _What was that about?_

"Aren't you?" I asked, and held his eyes for a long moment. It was like the words were saying _me_. "It's hard enough for me to admit it. Please don't deny it."

He looked away first, and took a deep breath, and I could feel him mastering and releasing some sort of emotion that felt like sorrow, or regret; perhaps even guilt. _There is a story here that he must tell me when he can. He cannot tell me now. _I _hated_ those messages, and put it aside for its appointed time, leaving Qui-Gon to his task and me to mine, both difficult as they stood.

"Now, try it again, Belinda," he said, with infinite gentle patience. We passed a very frustrating afternoon where I seemed to make little if any progress. These were completely alien processes to me, and parts of my brain that had never been used before were reluctant to come out of their long sleep. By the time the session was over, I had a headache again, and my eyes burned, my bones ached, and I was nearly exhausted. He touched my face and his hand came back wet with tears. "Belinda, I am sorry. I have pushed you too far today. I apologize."

"It's all right, we've both got a lot to learn," I said. "You"re used to doing this with a young child, aren't you?"

"Yes. It is more difficult to make the connections over years of habit."

"I can imagine. Maybe like trying to dig in solid stone with a teaspoon," I replied. "Or my skull, which probably amounts to the same thing. Come on, it's most likely time for something to eat, and I could use a cup of tea." I tried to get up and stumbled, and he caught me. I could feel the pain in his shoulder. "No, please don"t hurt yourself. You could start to bleed again inside. Give me a moment to get my legs under me." I could feel that he was tired too.

He held me there for a moment. "You are much too stubborn," he said, resting his chin on my head. It felt good. I held on, too._ This is much too pleasant_. I smiled. "Do you have a saying here about the pot calling the kettle black?" I asked. He chuckled gruffly. "Oh, well, the scenery has improved a good bit, at least."

He actually blushed, even as he pursed his lips. "Don't be silly," he said, briskly. "Come along, let's get you something to eat."

_Whoa, Nellie, who was the injured one here? _We walked back toward camp, and I kept an eye on him. He _seemed_ fine, but something was bugging me.

"Qui-Gon," I asked, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked, looking with delight at a lovely waterbird flying by. It looked like a rainbow colored heron, but so -- alive. I could feel its vibrance, too, and smiled. _There are compensations_. I never could tell which one of us thought that.

"Teaching me," I asked. "It's got to be a strain. Maybe it even distracts you from your mission."

"Ah, but what is my mission?" He asked. "If the Force wills that you be taught, I must teach you, Belinda."

_I like how he says my name. I am ridiculous. Spent too much time alone, that must be it.  
_

"So the Force told you to teach me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said simply. "I didn't know what that meant, immediately. I have more understanding now."

"You have your work cut out for you, I think."

"Indeed. But you have made progress already, even though you think you have not. You work hard, little one."

"I'm not afraid of hard work, certainly. But it's like nothing I've even_ thought _of doing before. I will do my best, that's all I can offer."

"Then that will be enough."

We went back to camp and ate dinner, and it was indicative of how important he considered the centering and meditation exercises that we had another session. I was too tired to giggle outright this time; I suppose it was an improvement. I did nearly fall asleep, though. As we ended, I looked up at him and _saw_ him, how attractive he was. The only excuse I had was exhaustion; a brief fantasy wandered across my mind.

"Be mindful of your thoughts," he said, perhaps more gently this time.

"Oh, is fantasy of the dark side, too?" I asked. "You are quite an attractive man, I hope I don't offend you."

"Not at all, but you should keep your concentration in the here and now, where it belongs," he replied. "And my appearance is of no consequence."

I shook my head, devastated by the idea that he actually didn't give a second thought to his appearance. "Qui-Gon, if we're going to be living inside each other's skin for any length of time, you must know that I find you very attractive. You are a strikingly handsome man, at the very least. I realize that my feelings may make it difficult for you to teach me. His color grew deeper and I could feel a frisson of discomfort. I'd evidently embarrassed him; what a thought.

"You are most -- flattering."

"I'm telling the truth, because under the circumstances I'm a damned lousy liar. Qui-Gon, how often is it that you're sent to negotiate treaties where there are women on the team? Sent to rescue damsels in distress, even those that don't necessarily want to be rescued? Don't tell me that your appearance isn't a factor in your work. You have to know these things in order to be an effective negotiator, and I have it on good, if fictional, information, that you are among the best."

He looked at me coolly, withdrawing further. "Don't presume to know so much."

"I'm stating the fact, about your appearance. I haven't worked my way up to presumption yet. I'm sure you'll know when I do; it's likely to be shortly. I'm just working on the evidence of my senses, now, which, thanks to you, are so damnably sharp that I can feel your heart beat. I'm not used to this. I'm not used to you. I'm just warning you."

"I do believe I can defend myself against your mad advances," he said with a droll curve to his lips.

"I have every confidence that you can, on the cold day in hell that I make them!" I retorted tartly. I was shocked at myself, but the maddeningly smug smile was wiped from his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking stunned. "I deserved that. I have driven you far too hard today."

"Oh, no. No, I'm sorry. That was a rotten thing to say, and I had no excuse. You've treated me kindly, saved my life and sanity, and now I insult you? Hell, we sound like we're married or something, Gods forbid. Oh, Qui-Gon -- Please try to forgive me. I truly don't wish to offend, though I seem to be doing it at every turn. I really do respect your dedication, your ability, your faith and calling. You are a very special man. Until I know you as a person, I may have these -- thoughts about you. But I do know that friends are much harder to find than fantasies. I think we could be friends, as different as we are. We could learn a lot from each other; you have been more than generous in teaching me already. How about we start with that?"

He looked at me carefully, as though feeling his way. He wasn't probing me, but questioning something else, _questioning the Force, I could feel that_. He smiled and took my hand. "That sounds like a very good idea, Belinda. I would like to know you better, too. But you ask a difficult thing."

"I don't do easy, Qui-Gon. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure you've figured out that I'm not easy either, but we can only do our best and see if it works out. If we can respect each others' boundaries, I think we'll be okay, even though we'll have to change how we relate to one another when you're teaching and when you're not. And you're still gorgeous. Get used to it."

He smiled. "And you are quite lovely. That surprises you? Don't worry, we will soon know more about each other. Please excuse me, now."

I was dumbfounded. _How the hell does he manage to leave me collecting my teeth from the ground? He'll drive me nuts if I don't strangle him first_. No one, in all my life, had called me that. Yeah, I cleaned up adequately, but I'd been overweight and none too feminine all my life, and had never really thought of it._ Is that how it was for him as well? Never really thinking about it? It's an odd feeling. I'll do my best to tone it down, then. We don't need that particular complication now_

He went and meditated by himself for a time; it was a long session, and I had time to wash myself (desperately needed, I couldn't understand why he hadn't fainted from the stench), change, wash my clothes, and tidy things up for the night. He seemed much more settled when he came back and accepted a cup of tea gratefully, with a few biscuits. Slan had some too, but I think it was for the cookies. He drooped visibly on my lap.

"You've had a rough day too, haven't you, buddy?" I asked him, stroking his warm golden fur. "It's hard to get through a brick wall. Thanks for sticking around."

_/You share cookie. Friends_/

"Lucky me, two in one day. Go on, Slan, you need to go to sleep. You've had enough cookies."

/_'Nite Lyn/_

After we had finished and washed and done the latrine thing, I went four rounds with the other air mattress I'd salvaged from the kit so he could have a place to sleep, and it nearly won by knockout. I tried to inflate the thing with the foot pump and got rather improbably tangled with it and wound up on the floor of the crate. Qui-Gon came back and did his best to restrain his laughter, but I couldn't, and Slan started to giggle, too. He couldn't hold it back after that. It felt good to laugh for any reason, especially with company.

"I needed a good laugh," I said, wiping my eyes. "I have to admit, I'm not at the top of my game. It's been the hell of a long day."

He extended a hand and helped me up. "Belinda, you have quite a gift for understatement," he said, still smiling. "You must rest. I have asked far too much of you today, and I've been a very poor guest indeed."

"Guest? After the last day, I don't think you're company anymore, Qui-Gon." He chuckled.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as I settled on the pallet with the lamp on the crate next to me.

"I'm going to read for a bit. I have a hard time sleeping if I don't read for a while before bed. Anyway, what use is there to being on a desert island if you can't read? It's a very good book; it's called _The Lord of the Rings. _Wait, I have an idea," I said, my mouth again suddenly deciding to lead a life of its own. "Would you like me to read some of it to you? I can start again, you might enjoy it." He cocked his head once more, somehow listening.

"I believe I would," he said. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, it will be my pleasure. I love the language and how it's used." So I began reading to him; I could only keep it up for a half hour, but he did seem to like it. It's my favorite story; perhaps it helped him to understand our culture, or at least the best of it.

The next morning, I heard him stir in the early light before dawn. He touched my shoulder gently and I suddenly recalled being awakened by a rather detailed erotic dream during the night. I awoke with a start.

"I am sorry to frighten you," he said. I got the distinct impression that Slan was giggling at me from Qui-Gon's shoulder. _You little stinker. Et tu, kitty?_

"But it's time to get up, eh?" I sat up. "I'm not what you call a morning person. You are, aren't you?" I sighed. _The story of my life_.

_/Silly Lyn/_

"You got that right, pal."

"Yes, I like to see the day begin," he said, the first admission of any preference I'd heard. He smiled. "And we must meditate." I groaned.

"I'm doomed. You're right, of course, Master. Please excuse me." He almost corrected me when I called him that, but then I believe he took my point; I was trying to distinguish between times he was teaching me and times he was not. He smiled as I collected the clothes I'd washed the day before, my toilet articles, and what passed for a towel.

"Certainly," he said, seeming amused as I trudged down the hill to the jakes. After running the inevitable errand and washing and brushing my teeth, I felt at least mostly human. I brushed back my hair and braided it once more, and came down with a slightly adjusted attitude. I was surprised and a little alarmed when Slan came scampering up to me looking distressed, but soon found out the reason why -- Qui-Gon was having trouble with his hair. He had wrenched his shoulder and it was very sore this morning, and he was trying to straighten himself with very limited and painful results.

"Oh, dear -- please, let me help you with your hair, I said. "That hurts." He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, startled for a moment. "I am sorry, I should have shielded more thoroughly."

"Qui-Gon, I'm in your back pocket. I'm sure you know how, but it will be easier if you just let me help you. Don't worry, I've nothing contagious, I won't even give you cooties." _I hope he knows I'm teasing_

He quirked the corner of his mouth as I gently untangled the thong that held the fronts of his hair back, and began brushing close to the bottom. His hair was magnificent -- thick and deep warm chocolate brown with golden glints of amber, not a gray strand in sight. It fell to the bottom of his shoulder blades in a straight curtain. I brushed it until the tangles were gone and it shone. He seemed to enjoy it, and I certainly did. It was odd; despite the mental intimacy we seemed to have, these little physical things I did for him seemed to make him, not uncomfortable, but, dare I say it, a bit shy. It struck me again as I ran my hands through his hair to check for tangles (and because it was very pleasant to do so) how very beautiful he was. I had to catch my breath and clear my throat. _Didn't Dante say the ninth circle of hell was cold?_

"Would you like the front pulled back like before, or in a tail or braid?" I asked, still a bit hoarse.

"Perhaps a braid would be less prone to tangle."

"It works for me, sounds quite sensible." I quickly pulled it back into a French braid so it would stay out of the way. _Gods, I know women who'd KILL for hair like this. It suits him just fine, though._ I tied the thong around the bottom and put my hands on his shoulders. "Is that too tight?"

"No, it's just right. Thank you." He cocked his head up and I could see gentle humor in the crinkled corners of his eyes. "What are_ cooties_?" He said it in a tone that made me think of the bubonic plague, obviously pulling my leg right back.

I chuckled and rubbed his shoulders a bit where they were sore. "Cooties are what little boys get from little girls," I said, giving it right back to him. He sighed and smiled and leaned back as I worked on his right shoulder to ease the tight muscles.

"And what do little girls get from little boys?" he asked. _I doubt that this is in the interest of anthropology -- Good God, is he flirting with me? Hey, I'll take what I can get. _"Nothing but trouble, of course," I replied, still smiling. "Some things never change. How's the shoulder this morning?"

"It will serve," he said. "The massage was very helpful. Thank you."

"I'm glad, you're welcome," I said. _Okay, in Jedi Speak, 'it will serve' means 'it hurts like thunderation'. Language lesson one complete_. "Now, you mentioned meditation as the reason for getting me up before breakfast. Is this before or after breakfast?"

"Before," he said.

I sighed. "Very well. Lead on, Master."

So, we meditated. Or at least he meditated. I just sat and drifted, experienced the morning beginning; the birds were singing, the breeze blowing. Sometimes I could feel the Force as a soft wisp touching me lightly, and I counted it as success. I know that I was a sight more calm after the meditation than I was before it, so I figured that something must have happened, even if it was only a short snooze. There are, after all, no bad naps.

I spent that day (and many others) learning how to feel the Force under his kind and very patient instruction. That wasn't hard, to feel it in the scrabbling run of a hermit crab, a towering coconut palm, the wiggle of Slan's backside against my shoulder as he snuggled. It was warm and pleasant and sweet in that, but it was wild and unpredictable when we went to the ocean and felt it in the wind and waves, or in the forest. It tied knots in my psyche if I thought about it too much, but it was enough then to know it was there. It was far more restful than the previous day's efforts at meditation, so I figured I was lucky. I asked questions, and sometimes I understood the answers. A few nights later I showed him the little glowing insects on the shore and the dragonets that ate them. Slan had always chased the tiny flies and now finally caught one, but not to eat it. He just looked at it after he brought it to my lap, making little wondering sounds.

"Pretty, isn't it, Slan? I've never seen anything like it. Fireflies in my world have their lights on the rear end, and they blink yellow. Not like this. Let it go, now, it wants to fly away." He did, waving goodbye as I'd taught him. Maybe he understood them at that. I looked over at Qui-Gon and he smiled at me. He seemed happy.

"They are most lovely. I've never seen these either, thank you for showing me."

"I'm glad you like them. After I had my big bout of hysterics, I was too tired even to go sleep under the boat. These guys came out at the usual time -- I didn't disrupt their schedule, after all -- and I felt better. Even when the little dragons started eating them." I shrugged. "Life goes on."

"And yet, you miss your family." I nodded, and swallowed hard. "I do, sometimes very much. But I know they wouldn't want me to lay down and die. Especially my father, he's a scrapper from way back. So I do the best I can. What else is there?"

"Indeed," he said.

"Qui-Gon, what will become of me?" I asked. That question had been preying on my mind for several days. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"When the ship comes, I will bring you with us to Coruscant, to the Temple. You should be evaluated. From there -- we shall see."

"Fair enough, I guess. I just don't want to be a charity case, that's all. I like to pull my own weight."

He nodded. "I can see that. I am sure that you will be able to serve in some way."

"I hope so," I replied. I sighed. I supposed it would have to do.


	4. Chapter 4

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

We fell into a routine after that. Qui-Gon decided, correctly, that I wasn't in good enough shape, so we walked all over the island exploring, to start with. He often pushed me into a trot to keep up with his long strides. It was hard work on the uneven and often sandy ground, and my ankle often pained me. One day about two weeks later, I had to just sit down, and Qui-Gon noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I was still working to reliably maintain my own shields, and I did my best to control the pain. "You're doing well, but it's clearly quite painful."

"It's an old injury. I broke my ankle and heel once, falling off a motorcycle," I replied. "It's held together with pins; I set off metal detectors wherever I go. It works well enough most of the time, but I'm not used to this level of exertion. I've most likely babied it too much, and it's complaining now. It's just a bit wobbly." He reached over and took said shoe off, and I did my best not to wince. It was a swollen and sore, and looked black-and-blue below the bone as it did when I overdid it. Slan decided he didn't like the looks of it at all, and patted my toes gently. I scratched his ears and snickered.

"That tickles! Thanks, Slan, it'll be okay."

"These are _metal _pins," he said, after running gentle fingers over the ankle to examine it. He seemed horrified. "I did not think your medical science was on this low a level, judging from your knowledge and abilities."

"Now you're flattering me," I said. "What you see is what you get. We have antibiotics, flush toilets, more legal and illegal drugs than you can shake a stick at, but we haven't yet managed to clone a whole human or body parts that I know of. Last I heard they'd managed sheep and a few kittens, and they just finished the first pass of charting the human genome. I mashed this ankle and foot pretty severely; they really did quite a remarkable job. But when you have to use the jigsaw method there are always pieces that don't fit quite right."

He nodded. "So I see. Relax, maybe I can help a bit." He took my (very ticklish) foot in both hands, and began to lightly rub around the ankle. Then I felt him draw the Force into his hands and stroke the inflammation down. It was an _amazing_ feeling, as though he was inviting health and good circulation to wash the pain and poisons away.

"Thank you," I said softly. "I want to learn this." I wasn't immediately aware of the fact that Id spoken my wish aloud, but colored at the amused look he gave me. "Qui-Gon, no one can do that in the world I left. To be able to relieve pain, to heal like this, to make whole what was broken -- it is the dream of every person who does what I did."

"I imagine so, but I can't do all that. I can just ease the pain and swelling a bit. You should rest today, when you can, but your ankle is stable and should give you little trouble if you are sensible with it."

"The only thing that really bothers it is when I twist the ankle or the foot. That's why I usually wear stiff high shoes. I turned it on the root over there, I'll have to be more careful." I slipped my shoe back on and tied it.

"Indeed. We can meditate while you rest." I nodded. The peace and calm that he found in meditation still eluded me the vast majority of the time, but I'd been able to touch it now and then, and I found to my surprise that I liked it. Even more, it seemed to feed a place inside me that before had been so empty that I hadn't known it was there. Even the restless reflection that I often managed seemed to calm me and help with the attacks of loneliness and homesickness that occasionally haunted me. At the very least, I'd learned how to sit still over the last weeks, and that was an improvement. My third grade teacher would have fainted dead away. I hadn't been able to do that in twenty years or better.

It was a pretty day, breezy and warm, and I closed my eyes after I got into a comfortable cross-legged position. Qui-Gon took me through a calming and cleansing breath exercise, and I found that I felt very grounded and open, and drifted into something of a contemplative haze where I could feel the life around me; I could feel the life force from the sun, the receptive waiting of the plants, the seeking of the animals; even Slan's inquisitive sniffling was part of the fabric of the place, the breath of the planet. It caught me off-guard as it always did when I managed to grab onto it, but finally I realized that the secret _was_ submission, being ready, as Qui-Gon had said the very day I'd met him. Not active seeking, but letting it come to me. Not doing, but letting it be done. Was that why he was running me into the ground, so I didn't have the strength left to be stubborn? I didn't know, but it was most likely a wise tack. I didn't have too much time to process the epiphany, though. I suddenly felt something like a cold wind, an anxious sensation, perhaps like a stone thrown into still waters that produces waves, or a dissonant chord √ and opened my eyes to see Qui-Gon rising, looking alert and a bit grim.

"There is a disturbance in the Force," he said.

"Yes," I said. "I felt something. too." _Is that too cool? I felt that!_ "What is it?"

"It seems my pursuers have finally found me," he said. "More than one of them, I'd say."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked softly, not from any perceived need for quiet, but to help him keep his focus.

"You must stay hidden," he replied. "They will not hesitate to harm you in their pursuit of me."

I nodded. They certainly hadn't cared about those poor colonists. "Yes. Where shall I go?"

"Here may be as good a place as any," he said, "since you can't move quickly yet. You can find concealment in this hollow. Try to stay still if they come here, and contact me if you can."

"All right. Be careful, please."

He smiled. "Always, Belinda. You, too."

"You betcha, Kemo Sabe."

He cast an amused look at me, eyebrow raised. "You'll have to explain that later," he said. I grinned, for a moment my anxiety forgotten. "Remember, contact me if they come here." I nodded, and he ran quickly off with Slan. I crouched down in the hollow and did my best to be aware of the surroundings, to give him as much chance as I could. I could feel them now, and they felt different, and I wondered whether they were human. One of them was definitely not human, and I shuddered away from contact, doing my best to shield. _Gods, that's creepy. This is going to take some getting used to._ Inevitably, I could hear them coming my way. Rather than alerting them to my presence, I just turned on the commlink and breathed, "They're coming this way. Listen." What I _didn't_ do was watch my back.

The being that hauled me out of the hollow had hot skin and a foul odor. I turned to see my attacker and screamed -- so much for seeking out new worlds and new civilizations. He was pretty scary, though, a creature out of a bad horror film. The better part of seven feet tall, he had a face like a rotted ghoul or mummy, skin dry and leathery brown stretched and wrinkled over a sharp and just slightly strange skeletal frame. He wore his sparse hair in some kind of topknot that looked and smelled like it had been dressed with rancid grease. He grabbed me by the neck and dragged me up, a knife at my throat. I stopped struggling when I felt the sharp hot edge against my jaw, and stood, hardly breathing and still. _I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer_...

"Good," he grunted. "Stay still. You didn't tell me this Jedi was a _female_."

"Koochu, sebto nobata Jeedi," came a low rumbling growl. I looked up and saw a hoverpad on which sat a rather disgusting looking thing that looked like a garden slug with a hormone problem. _A Hutt -- that must be a Hutt. But it's a young one; it's much smaller than Jabba in the movies._

"No need for insult, Dengula," he said, in a hoarse mutter. "It wouldn't be the first time you were wrong."

"Chu'uba de peepto, sleemo," he replied, and spat. Must've been something pretty bad -- with his free hand, the leatherheaded thug whipped out what I assumed was a blaster, and was about to draw a bead when a tall, dark-haired human male dressed in black appeared behind him, shaking his head at the both of them.

"Stop this brawling, you two. I didn't bring you here to have pissing matches on my time. Dengula, if you want to make any impression on your mother, this trip had better be profitable. This one might make a decent brothel slave, but she's no Jedi, certainly." He spoke in cultivated tones that I'd have associated with Oxford or Cambridge, but with the shade of an accent that I could almost identify as French, Belgian, or even Dutch. He turned his icy pale blue eyes upon me and looked at me a bit more carefully. "What's the matter, milady? Hutt got your tongue?" He carelessly tossed binders to my captor. "Here, Teek, truss her up and we'll see if we can't find a use for her later. I'm sure her Jedi friend will be glad to come get her." He came up to me, grabbed my chin, and thrust his face into mine, so close that I could see the scar on his cheek in the shape of a broken circle.

"Where is he?" he asked. "Where is Qui-Gon Jinn?" I felt a pressure on my mind; he was trying to use the Force to pry the information out of my memory. I did my best to think of other things -- but it was like what happens when someone says, 'don't think about elephants'. Of course.

"So, he is here," he breathed. "Good. And you're one of his -- pets; you should prove quite useful. Very nice. Take care of her, Teek. She may make a nice sacrifice if she doesn't make it worth my while to sell her to the brothel." He grunted, and set me down. Now that the knife was no longer at my throat, I began to struggle once more; I got an unexpected knee to the young man's groin and he grunted, and managed to bite Teek's hand hard enough to taste blood, which was brown like the rest of him. He tasted terrible; I spat and gagged as I rolled away after he dropped me, roaring what I assumed were curses in his native tongue. _Damn, with my luck he reproduces with that hand -- or something worse._

Quick as lightning, though, the tall young man had me, and slapped me across the face. I tasted my own blood and saw stars, but he was laughing. "A good try, but not quite quick enough, are you? Remember that, and rethink your options. Slaves with a rebellious streak aren't favored in the brothels, you know," he continued, _pushing_ again into my mind. I shuddered; it felt awful, dirty, foul. I fought back, and he slapped me again. "Neither are Force users. Guess we'll have to kill you after all. Terribly sad," he said, shaking his head, looking and sounding for all the world like a dissolute French or English upper-crust roue. "Unless, that is, you give me a reason to let you live. Why don't you think about that?"

Being angry at least gave me the illusion of control, and I had to use what I could get. "I'd rather think about grilling you over a slow fire," I replied, through clenched teeth so he couldn't hear them chatter. "And of what use could I possibly be to you dead?" I asked. I was ready to pee myself in fear, but I'd be double damned if I'd let this jerk know that.

"Oh, it won't be your dead body that brings him," he replied, looking into me once more. I writhed under the horrible invasion of his mind's touch. "It will be the damsel in distress. He'll come so much faster when he feels your suffering. And it will be good to know that I have damaged something he values. Oh, is he teaching you too? How touching. And you _fancy_ him." He laughed, and it was an evil sound now, there was something wrong there. "He's an emotional cripple, he's incapable of loving anyone; don't you know that?"

"And would you be thinking that because he didn't love _you_?" I asked quietly. _Yeah, bozo, chew on that for a little while. Maybe you aren't as inscrutable as you'd like me to think._ His pale face went ashen. I felt an overwhelming wave of bitterness and grief, and then cold anger. _Uh-oh. Time to kiss your behind goodbye, Lyn. _I was suddenly very afraid of what he could do to me._ A little late for that..._ He got up after he'd secured the binders on my hands, and I saw his cloak fall open to reveal a lightsabre. _A Jedi? He's a Jedi?_

"I was a Jedi. Until I -- transgressed. Oh, I know firsthand, yes," he said. "And you'll be better off to join with me. He won't teach you what you need to know, how to survive. He'll just take you back to the Temple and put you on exhibition, a trained animal in a cage with no real use, for life, no chance of parole. It will be worse than prison."

"You don't know that," I said. But he could be right at that. _I may not be trainable, or be able to catch up with the technology, and what will I do then?_ "So, whoever you are when you're at home, what do you have against Qui-Gon? And while we're at it, what's in it for me if I do join you?" _When all else fails, be arrogant._

He didn't bother to slap me this time, but Teek kicked me savagely with a jack-booted foot. I did my best to bite back my cry of pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. By this time I was shaking with rage and fear, and using all the calming methods Qui-Gon had taught me to keep from doing something utterly idiotic.

"You're insolent, I'll give you that. My name is Xanatos of Telos. Qui-Gon killed my father. And for you -- power, if you want it. Riches, if that's what you desire. My Master has use for people with your talent." I knew that wasn't the whole story, but I couldn't discern anything else right then.

"Xani, be nobata ke teemo chekta. Be fekaba Jeedi," Dengula grumbled.

"You'll have your Jedi, Dengula, all wrapped up nicely for Jabba. And I'll have the data chips I need to keep him from proving the truth, and as a bonus a little gift for my Master. We'll all be quite happy if you let me use my own methods. Offworld will be satisfied, and so will your mother. Perhaps then Jabba will give you a more active and profitable part in the business."

His _mother_? Jabba the Hutt is Dengula's _**mother**_? This is just too surreal...

Xanatos perked up as I began to feel Qui-Gon's presence. "Ah, right on schedule. Master, I have your pet here," he called. _Master? Whoa, hold on thar, Baba Looey. His Master? Doesn't **that** clear things up?_

"Xanatos," came the deep voice, now sharply commanding, "What is it that you want of me?"

"The same thing I always have, Master," he said.

"And I cannot give that," he replied tersely. "So what do you need?"

"Offworld Mining would like certain records that you seem to have obtained from the Free Roon Party," he said. "If I receive them, your -- pet -- will go free. Hardly your type, though, is she? She bites."

"She does, eh? Good. I don't have the records in question in my possession, Xanatos. I must go back to retrieve them. May I have a few moments to do so?"

"You may," he replied, as though granting a royal boon. "And bring your datapadd along while you're at it, Master. Can't have those copies floating around, now, can we?"

"I will," he said. "Do not hurt her, Xanatos, she has done you no harm."

"Fifteen minutes, then," he said. "After that, I cannot speak to my compatriots' actions."

"Don't, Qui-Gon," I said loudly. It hurt to take a breath, but I had to warn him. "They're going to kill me anyway, and there's a Hutt here who's trying to capture you!"

Teek grabbed me by the neck of my shirt and ripped it off me, and shook me to stop me from speaking. He grabbed hold of my neck and the world started to turn black around the edges and it hurt. It hurt badly. "Stupid bitch! See how you like this!" He roared, punching me and laughing. I began to pass out.

"You fool, don't hurt her, she's _**dangerous**_!" Xanatos shouted. Teek shook me again for good measure, and that's when all hell broke loose. _Nobody had ever hurt me like that before_; trying to survive, desperately reaching for something, anything to save my life, I found it -- the same roiling current I'd found the first time, but now it flowed through me, gave me a febrile strength that was incredibly exhilarating and downright seductive. I reached out to Teek, the nightmare creature that was hurting me (and to all appearances, having a bloody good time at it), and I _**made him stop**_. That's what I wanted to do, and it worked. He let go, and I blew the binders off my hands. As a side effect, I saw Xanatos fall down like he'd been hit with a pile driver or something. I felt the burning in my hands, but I was too busy getting a breath and rolling over so I could get up to pay it much mind.

Dengula took one look at the party and took off on the hoverpad, grabbing the limp form of Xanatos and screaming curses at all of them. Well, I assumed that they were curses. Come to think of it, maybe he was cursing me, too. I turned to see what had happened to Teek, and found him on the ground, blood leaking from his nostrils and mouth. There was smoke rising from his still form.

I had killed him.

I shrieked, and looked at my hands and saw nothing but dark brown blood, and I just -- ran. I ran to the shore, hysterically trying to scrub the blood off my hands with seawater, with sand, with anything that I could find. I had killed a sentient being. I had killed. What had I done, how had I done this? I was shrieking, keening, rocking back and forth on the beach when Qui-Gon came to me a few minutes later, as I barely processed the deafening roar of a ship taking off. He picked me up into his arms, no matter whether I was drenched, bloody, burnt, or not. Hell, it was a wonder he didn't rupture himself; even then at my lowest poundage in years, I was no lightweight.

"Belinda," he said, "what happened?"

"He's dead," I said. "I killed him..."

"What happened?" He asked patiently.

"I -- killed him. I killed him. I could have killed Xanatos, too, even you ... "

"No, Xanatos was stunned by your outburst, perhaps knocked out, but he wasn't badly hurt. Belinda, tell me..."

I couldn't respond, I just fell into myself. I couldn't process anything else. I just kept crying and shaking as he washed and bandaged the bloody wrecks of my hands, where I'd scrubbed off tissue that the energy had burned. He put on some kind of burn medication and dressing that eased the pain, but I wanted the pain. I wanted it to hurt; I wanted to suffer it. It had burned my very soul, why shouldn't my body burn as well? There was a darkness that I could not penetrate inside me. Qui-Gon did everything he could think of, but he simply couldn't reach me then, so he made me sleep. I wandered through darkness and dread dreaming for a time I hardly remember, and mourned the poor wretched creature that I had killed, knowing nothing about him but his name. I was just -- out of the world, absorbing the fact that this was not a game or for jollies. This was real.

I woke up in the dim light before dawn to him meditating or perhaps even dozing, seated next to me on his heels. I felt like a piece of pottery glued together with slip; I didn't want to move too quickly for fear of breaking to pieces again. Now do they put me in the fire, or have I already been there? My hands were still swathed in bandages, but for a blessed moment I didn't remember what had happened until the weight came back to my heart. I wasn't even angry with myself, I was just ┘ sad. Disappointed. When Qui-Gon had spoken of the Dark Side, I had fooled myself into thinking that I wasn't vulnerable to that kind of thing, that I had it all under control. Ho, ho, ho, isn't that funny.

Not.

So, I had learned the hard way -- when had I ever learned any other way? and what I had learned I wouldn't easily forget. The Dark Side wasn't outside me, but it was the anger inside that turned the power into darkness. The lens by which it was focused. He must have been waiting for me to wake up, because he gently touched my cheek.

"Qui-Gon -- " I said. He pulled back quickly. _Oh, no. He won't want to teach me anymore._

"Belinda," he said, softly. "I am -- so sorry."

I sat up, weak and shaking. "You?" I asked. "What do you mean? Who the hell died and left you in charge?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

I looked down at my bandaged hands, stiff with what I'd later learn was bacta dressing and syntheskin. "I wish I could say I didn't, but I do. Burned into my permanent memory in living color and wide-screen panavision."

"Good," he said, certainly. "You must never forget it."

I shuddered. "Not bloody likely. Qui-Gon, it was _so easy_. So_ wild and big and dangerous_, it was even -- _seductive_. I could have enjoyed it, all that power --" I was dry, thirsty, but even so I felt a tear leak out. I began to shake again.

"But you didn't. You were horrified. Belinda, you acted in self-defense."

"That doesn't make it right," I said, looking up at him directly.

"No. But I hadn't taught you the first thing about that. You've never had to defend yourself, have you?"

"Yes, but not like that," I said softly. "I've dodged -- and taken -- a few punches, even thrown the odd one, and been in a few other situations, but nothing like that." I drank the water he offered and then more, and he handed me a meal bar and I ate it. Slowly I began to feel stronger; slowly the shaking subsided.

"I should have evaluated you, trained you in self-defense from the start. Please forgive me."

"No forgiveness needed. You warned me from the first. That's how I knew what I'd done. I did it, Qui-Gon. I killed that poor creature, after I swore never to do such a thing in my life, long before we ever met. Self-defense or not, I feel the pain of a broken oath, here." I laid my hand over my chest. "You have shown me wonder and joy but you never allowed me to forget the responsibility. That was my choice. You were making sure I could survive." I got up, not being able to stay still any longer. "You're not used to this either -- I'm an adult, I come with my own sets of ethics, morals, neuroses, even my own form of honour. My growth and subconscious haven't been controlled by the Jedi."

"I must admit, it has been a challenge. But it has been quite a worthy one." He put his hands on my shoulders as I stood looking into the forest. Slan came and climbed up his leg and jumped on to my arm.

"If I can change my path, please help me. Help me to learn control so I can be an honorable steward of these gifts I have been given."

He wiped tears from my face gently. "And if you must learn to kill without remorse?" He asked.

"Qui-Gon, we both know that I am no Jedi nor ever shall be. I don't think I will ever learn that."

"Sometimes a healer must help a person die."

I was quiet a moment, considering. Certainly death is not the worst of fates, a wiser part of my mind whispered to me. We will all die, perhaps to return until we've gotten it right. Wouldn't it have been better to die than to suffer the way Mama did? I would have done anything to spare her those final weeks. There had been nothing but pain and sickness, the agony of the chemotherapy and the effects of the cancer on her mind. Death would have been a gift to her, a way to continue on her journey without the senseless suffering that merely prolonged the inevitable and made her unable to face death, look it in the eye as she had all other challenges and obstacles. And how often had I tucked in a suffering soul, especially a child, and wished that I could end their pain and fear, even if it was with that final, terrible peace? If I were trained, would the Force tell me when that was the right thing? Did the Force tell a Jedi when killing was right, or at least when it was the lesser wrong? Did I need to submit, as Qui-Gon kept telling me, and accept? Accept that my role in this place was different than it had ever been before, that I would never be the same? I took a long, deep, shuddering breath, and felt responsibility settle on my shoulders, a weight that instead of crushing me, steadied me. I wasn't sure if I could be strong enough, but I hadn't much choice, had I? _Fine time to figure it out, Kyle. Management. Ha._

I turned to him and looked up at his face, stillness and waiting in it, in the lines of his body. I was singularly bad at waiting, and stillness evaded me with ease even now. "How can you tell, Qui-Gon? How do you _know?_"

"The Force tells us," he said. "You need only learn to listen."

I smiled. "Listen? In the middle of a battle? As you walk on the island? Is that what you do?"

"I must be -- ready," he said. "Always."

I nodded, finally beginning to understand. ⌠I understand that death has its place in the plan, Qui-Gon. I even know that Teek was a killer, and perhaps he even deserved death. But I'm a beginner. There are things that even the tiniest child in the Temple knows that I don't have a clue about -- and conversely, there are things that I know that few grown Jedi do. I depend on you to teach me, and you have never done me wrong."

"You put me on such a pedestal, little one," he said . "It isn't a pedestal when you're on the mountaintop on belay," I said. "Even if I do get dizzy on a deep pile carpet ... I was so afraid," I whispered. "Afraid you would think --"

He put his arms around me and I wept. "No, Belinda. It's over now, and you will be strong when you have mended."

"God help me, then," I said. I was comforted by his understanding, and reached up and kissed his cheek. He cleared his throat.

"Well, I can't speak to that, but I certainly will. The Dark Side touches all of us. We must always be vigilant."


	5. Chapter 5

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

Qui-Gon still felt badly. He didn't sulk, precisely, but he was very quiet for the next day or two. I rested for a day and babied my cracked ribs and bruises, and did my best to leave him to it for awhile, to work it out as he could, but it was plain that he needed to get out of what seemed to be a rut, a garbage loop. When I could read him, he seemed to be blaming himself, even feeling sorry for himself. This can't be good. A Jedi, mired in self-pity? Moping? So I limped up to him the second evening and sat next to him. He wasn't meditating; his head was bowed and he seemed -- upset. I handed him a cup of tea.

"So," I said. "Tell me about Xanatos."

He looked coolly at me. "I've never known you to pry before," he said.

_Ouch. What was that, a warning shot across my bow? A rise, at least. Don't lead with your chin, pal. This isn't a one-way street._

"Well, Qui-Gon, he slapped the snot out of me a few times and threatened to sell me to a brothel. His lovely companion did his damnedest to kill me and that little episode nearly turned me to the Dark Side. I would think that neatly puts me in the 'need to know' category, wouldn't you?" I was shaking inside, hoping not to offend him. If we were really to be friends, it was time for me to step up and do what he needed, whatever I could -- _and besides, damn it, I **did **need to know_... I took a breath and calmed myself; no sense in getting bent out of shape. He was really hurting, after all, and I did care. I reached out and put my hand on his.

"I know he was your apprentice. You must have been close at one time."

He looked down again, and I felt his distress through the contact. _I am such a jerk. Get off it, Kyle_.

"I killed his father," he said quietly.

"So he said. He seems to be the sort that would tell the truth, or part of it, if it suits his purpose. I know you well enough even now to know that you would not take life unless there was no alternative. I also know that Xanatos is -- a lost soul, in some way. I could feel that. Please tell me what happened. I need to understand him better than I do now."

He looked up at me, and his eyes were sad. "My first apprentice and I found Xanatos on Telos when he was a very young child, hardly even two years old. He was alone, in the middle of a garden, waiting for his father, the governor. He was only allowed to interact with his father, once a day. He was attended solely by droids, who did not speak to him or hold him. His very soul was bleak and empty. No one had ever even held his hand."

"Oh, my God. That -- children can die from that sort of isolation. It's horrible." I had tears at the thought of anyone treating a child like that.

"Indeed they can, and even if they survive physically, something can die inside. I see now that little Lysander -- that was his birth name -- had already been fatally damaged by the time I found him. But I had to take him away from there. He was an intelligent child with much potential, very strong in the Force." He closed his eyes, perhaps to bring the memory more clearly. "Eventually my Master, Dooku, took him as a Padawan." He drew a deep breath, and drank some tea. "It appeared to be a good match in temperament and skills. Xanatos seemed to thrive under my Master's teaching, and they grew to be a formidable team. But Xan became attached to Dooku, to the point of obsession. It is common for a Padawan to develop an infatuation with his Master, but this was different, almost a sickness. It was decided by the Council that it would be inappropriate for the relationship to continue, and another Master would have to take Xanatos as an apprentice if he were to continue in the Order. Some of the Council felt that he should be terminated at that point. Of course, no one wished to lose him, but they felt the boy was dangerous, because of the damage he had suffered as a child."

"We are all damaged some way or another, I guess," I said. "It's inevitable that something mars the perfection of a baby's potential."

"Indeed," he said. "And Xanatos had much potential. Because of his talent and obvious ability, Master Dooku felt that the boy deserved another chance, and so he convinced me to speak for Xanatos and take him as my apprentice. For a year or two, I thought he was doing very well, but he played me like a Bonari flute, wrapped me around his finger, just as he had my Master, with his manipulation." He looked into his tea for a moment, now becoming even more deeply still. "The fights he got into were always started by the other Padawan; shenanigans he pulled were always someone else's fault. He eventually became obsessed with me, as well, and I admit that I was flattered by his attention, though it is very strictly forbidden for a Master and a Padawan to be any more than that. It betrays the trust there must be between teacher and pupil. Still, instead of seeing that for the sickness it was, I ignored it; I overlooked his faults, and did my best to train him. He was a quick and able student." He smiled -- there must have been some happy memories there, maybe lots of them. If Xanatos had been a total horror, it wouldn't have hurt nearly so much, I realized. Give even the Devil his due, and this may be close. I found that my heart ached as much for the betrayal of Qui-Gon's trust as for the lost child.

"Then Master Yoda sent us on a mission to Telos, to monitor treaty negotiations. The mission was to be Xan's Trial; he would have been knighted when it was completed. Crion, the governor who was Xan's father, was still in power; he wanted war so he could have more of the wealth and power that he obsessively coveted. And now he wanted his son back."

"As another possession, perhaps?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he replied. "But certainly as an ally. A man trained as a Jedi could be a powerful and fearsome ruler, after all."

I sat back on my heels at that. "You mean that Crion had _planned_ this?" I asked incredulously.

"It is the logical conclusion. Why else would I have been directed to leave the party where we found him in the garden? Crion did nothing by chance. He was a Force-Sensitive as well, and knew that his wealth and power would impress Xan when he saw it again."

"He ensured Xanatos' loyalty by _imprinting_ him, like a baby bird or something. Never allowing him to interact with anyone else until you found him. Oh, Qui-Gon, how horrible. How can someone do that to their own flesh and blood?"

"I suppose,"Qui-Gon replied, "he thought it would ensure that his son would be far more powerful than he, and utterly loyal. I don't really know. Xanatos joined with his father and disrupted the negotiations, and the result was a bloody civil war. Many thousands were killed for the sake of Crion's greed, when he would not back down, but hired an army to subdue the populace. I killed Crion while Xanatos watched. I fought Xanatos then, but I -- could not bear the thought of killing him."

"So he escaped. I see. You know, of course, that Yoda merely gave Xanatos enough rope to hang himself."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "But had I acted as I should have, this wouldn't have happened to you."

"Who's to say that you didn't? You can't change what you did, not now, and I can't deny that the lesson will stay with me for the rest of my days." I put my other hand over the one I now held. "If your teaching of me is any example, I can't imagine anything wrong that you did, except perhaps to give him the benefit of the doubt when he didn't deserve it. And I'm sure that you miss him -- if only the boy that you loved."

He nodded. "He was a bright light," he said, miserably. "Intelligent, quick, a leader. Now the light is -- gone." I suddenly was able to see the little boy lost, a tiny child with black hair and pale eyes who had an empty place inside that was impossible to fill, even though he was a shining star. I was shocked, and deeply saddened.

I nodded. "And you grieve for that light. I never saw that, and so I can't know. Thank you for telling me about it. Some of that light came from you, Qui-Gon. It's still yours. Some of it came from your Master. And some came from that little boy who was so lost. I think he's still lost, in some way. Now maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive him, though it may take me awhile yet."

"It is a process, to forgive," he said. "I'm glad to help you do so. Xanatos might have been great, and now he is a danger, a menace."

"You showed him the right way, Qui-Gon, gave him a choice. The path he took was wrong, even though you and your Master and the whole Jedi Order gave him the tools to take the right one."

He shrugged, looking down again. "But it did no good in the end."

"How so? Sometimes, a good deed is not immediately rewarded. Should you then not do right? Is there no chance that Xanatos can be redeemed? No chance that he can turn away from his path now?"

"It is very difficult," he said. "Once that path is chosen it will dominate your life."

I took a deep breath; suddenly I was frightened by the direction the conversation took now. "Then what about me, in that case? Can I turn back or have I been irrevocably marked?" I was surprised to find how afraid I was of the answer, how my voice trembled at the question. I could not stop tears.

"Your case is much different," he said, immediately. He took my hands in his, now comforting me. _How typical_.

"Is it? Qui-Gon, I don't _know_. I never understood before, I don't know if I really understand now."

"Do not focus on your fear," he said. "The fact that you could ask the question is its own answer. We are all touched by the Dark Side, and we must constantly be on our guard. You did not seek power, nor did you deliberately choose a dark path. You truly regret your action, even though it was in self-defense. That is why you must learn to defend yourself, as soon as you are able, and strengthen your ability to stay calm and centered as much as possible, to know the right path in your heart and take it. I know you can do that, Belinda. I have faith in you. You must also have faith in yourself."

"Thank you," I said, reassured. "I'll do my best."

"That will be good enough, then," he replied.

"And please remember that I have faith in you," I replied. "Maybe you should listen to your own advice."

"Now you _are_ presumptuous," he said, with the trace of a smile in his eyes. _Now that was a bit better._

"Told you it wouldn't take long," I replied. I reached over and kissed his cheek. "You have been very good to me, Qui-Gon. I don't tell you nearly enough how much I appreciate it."

Amazingly, he colored, and cleared his throat. "I do what I must," he said, brusquely, "and so do you. Thanks are not needed."

Now the routine changed. For a few more days I had to rest, because of the cracked ribs from the scuffles with Xanatos and Teek, and I did a lot of thinking about those events, even independent of the relentless centering and meditation exercises. When I recovered enough, we began to do some physical evaluation, with the object of finding out what my strengths and weaknesses were. The weeks of general conditioning had been amazingly beneficial, but I still could not run for long distances because of my foot. He was surprised at how strong I actually was, though.

"Well, I did a lot of lifting and toting in my job," I said. "I have considerable upper body strength. I used to whip the firefighters now and then at arm wrestling." I smiled at the memory.

He smiled, too. "That's not the object here, certainly."

"Yeah, and I could never do that with you, either, but it was fun. Now, what had you in mind?"

What he had in mind was something that resembled a cross between karate, judo, aikido, and self-defense training. It was an unarmed fighting form with plenty of dirty trick moves. We started with drills -- blocking, evasion, and whathaveyou. Boring, repetitive, tiring drills that used muscles I wasn't accustomed to using. He would attack to one side, high, low, wherever, and I would block as he taught me. Or not. On one afternoon, I overshot while trying to wiggle out of an attempt to grab me, and ran headfirst into a tree of some sort. I saw stars and wound up with a black eye.

"Qui-Gon, as a rule I prefer to patch wounds, not cause them. Especially on myself. This might not be a good idea."

"Nonetheless, you must learn how to defend yourself and stay calm while you do so, to avoid a repeat of a very bad situation." He probed my face gently to see if there was any damage. I winced.

"Ouch. Point taken. I certainly see the reasoning. Perhaps a weapon would be better. I might well knock my own teeth out before I get to the second form. How about a quarterstaff? I fooled around with one when I was fighting in the SCA, and didn't do too badly," I asked, after I'd shaken the fog out of my brain. _And anyway, you could use some practice defending against one._ He looked at me sharply, and I could feel the probe as he tried to figure the reason why, but my shield held, even as he rubbed the brow and my cheek with gentle warm fingers, urged the swelling down. The physical contact made me feel shaky, for some reason, almost giddy. As though he hadn't been grabbing me and trying to get me all that afternoon. _You're being silly, girl. You'd have a hell of a black eye if he didn't help out._ But I enjoyed his touch all the same.

"If you can't keep yourself in one piece in hand to had combat, you'd most likely be a menace with a weapon," he said. I snorted.

"You're most likely right," I replied. "Just a thought."

"We might be able to work with one, though, if you'd like. I see you're still practicing your shielding. A creditable effort." He seemed pleased.

I grinned up at him. "It's merely reinforcement. When I can shield correctly, I have my head to myself again. It seems to work better that way, I must just be used to it."

He smiled, and offered me a hand up. "Indeed," he replied. "You are actually doing fairly well with the unarmed forms, as long as no marauding trees get in the way. I've seen that you are able to stay centered in movement. It is an excellent way to maintain focus, not many people can do that."

"I've always said that I think better when my large muscles are moving, as long as you don't count my mouth, anyway." He chuckled.

I managed not to brain myself again, even though I was slow learning. I actually did manage to assimilate some useful blocks, parries, and strikes over the next week or so without major disaster. We cut two quarterstaves from a bamboo-like native plant that grew on the ridge -- it seemed to be much stronger, though quite light. He proceeded to beat me up with that, too, but he seemed to enjoy it. I saw that he was happiest in motion, and I could identify with that. I was sore and tired every night when I went to bed, but I couldn't see that I was making much progress. I was certainly not the quickest pupil he'd had, but I did make him think occasionally with the odd question about the Force, or about the Republic itself.

"Qui-Gon, what is it that the Senate actually does?" I asked, one day, during a break where I was taping my ankle.

"It is mostly concerned with the regulation of intersystems law," he said. "Their jurisdiction is mostly in that area, and trade regulation."

"Oh. So the individual systems are responsible for their own governments, by and large. That makes sense, I guess. I can only imagine the administrative nightmare that must entail. Must make for some tricky negotiations."

"Indeed. It is fortunate that the Jedi can accomplish them."

"It's fortunate that the Republic has such negotiators, I'd think. Does the Senate have any powers to enforce the laws?"

"It has the Jedi."

"Right. There's no army or police force other than the Jedi?"

"There has seldom been any need for one. Were an army to be raised, it might actually lead to civil war."

I nodded. "Seems more like the UN than a governing body." In response to a quizzical look, I said, "The United Nations is a representative body of countries on the world I came from. It passes resolutions, and often aids in negotiations and keeping the peace, but it has no independent power of government or funding of its own; it depends on contributions from member nations. And of course, the ones with the most money have the most clout. I happened to live in one of them, but folks who don't are at a disadvantage."

"As usual," he said. "It is always so."

"Well, even in our world, corporations or trade organizations don't quite have sovereignty. Yet, anyway."

He smiled. "However, I am sure that many corporations control national governments on your world as well."

I sighed. "Can't argue that. They buy and sell governments -- if not directly, then by corruption of heads of state or even petty officials. And if not corporations, then crime organizations. I'd think that any bureaucracy is vulnerable to some kind of corruption -- and the older the bureaucracy, the more entrenched it would be -- even part of the accepted procedure. Is that so in the Republic?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed it is," he said. "Regrettably, there is no way to eliminate corruption. Special interests are most creative in making their viewpoints known."

"I know that even in my country, nominally a representative democracy, a person in politics must be assumed to be corrupt. Unless they're already independently wealthy -- and even that doesn't necessarily make them immune. It's just impossible to trust them. Is that a reasonable assumption in the Republic, too?"

"Definitely," he said. "You've a keen grasp of the realities of public life."

"Thanks, I guess. I wish it weren't so, but them's the breaks. No government is perfect. We had a very wise man who was instrumental in the formation of my country's government, Thomas Jefferson. He said, 'He governs best who governs least'. That's the best one can hope for, I suppose."

"Indeed. On the scale of the Republic, it's the only thing that can be hoped for. The system is certainly corrupt. It has been much the same for many thousand years."

"Holy Hannah -- thousands? No revolutions, no civil wars, no nothing?"

"No," he said. "There were times when the Republic -- and the Jedi -- came close to collapse, but both institutions have always managed to survive the tides of time for over 25,000 years."

"Because of the Jedi, perhaps? Or was there an army before your time?"

"There were armies, actually, during the Sith wars..."

Thus launched a long series of conversations about the history of Earth and of the Republic, where I found out that I remembered more than I thought, but was woefully ignorant anyway. I told him about many of the US's good and bad Presidents, and other folks in history -- which is how I tend to remember history, myself. He especially liked Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, and Theodore Roosevelt. I'm afraid I wasn't very objective, but he understood about that.

"You can only know the history you've been taught unless you have a primary source, or you were there. You display independent thinking despite that."

"Well, thanks. The conclusions are fairly obvious; I wish I'd been able to study more history. I was busy trying to get into medical school."

"Why did you abandon that?" he asked.

"I don't know, really. I think it was mostly burnout. After I lost my place in med school, I was working on the hospital floor, trying to study part time, trying to afford school. I was tired. I know that being a doctor is what I want to do, but it was just too much right then."

"It is hard when you lose your way," he replied. He seemed to understand that quite well. I wondered what that story was. "Perhaps you have found it again now."

"I hope so," I said. "I hope I can be a Healer here."

I dug out the little chess/backgammon/checkers set I had and taught him how to play chess. I'm only a fair player, but I enjoy games in general. Chess turned out to be exactly the right game for him. He was, of course, trained in that very way of thinking, and he womped me from the second game onward. I learned a lot from him, as he recreated many of the classic strategies naturally. I could have read Nimowitsch inside out for years and never figured it out the way he did. It was fun, even getting annihilated, watching a Master take shape and learn to own the game. I could tell he enjoyed it, more than anything else I showed him except one.

He loved The Lord of the Rings. I kept reading to him in the evenings before we slept. Sometimes he worked on his 'sabre or the non-functional beacon, but usually he listened intently as I read to him. It was disconcerting at first to be the sole object of anyone's attention, but I found it flattering as I got used to it. We discussed the book often, and I could feel him doing his best to understand some of the concepts that were more alien to him. However, he well understood honor and nobility and duty, and the fight against evil. I began to understand more as well, in the framework of my limited experience. As we spoke of it, I found that I, like Frodo, had never truly believed in evil as a thing, as anything more than a concept or perhaps a wrong decision. Not close to me, but off in the distance somewhere. Sauron, Darth Sidious, Darth Vader, Darth Maul, Saddam Hussein, Hitler -- that was evil, not me. Now it was a thing I encountered daily in my life, and it frightened me, the palpable urge for power and control that I carried with me as part of my psyche. It wasn't even a Ring I could destroy or be parted with, but a portion of my Self, part of me always. There would always be the dark side of my self, a Shadow that would speak to me quietly and fool me when it could. With the frightening gift of power, I had received this responsibility as well, it seemed. Now that I was aware of it, I could see how the lure of evil was seductive and deceptive, that the illusions it cast were almost impossible to defeat unless you really did listen, and hear the difference between the whisperings and the real voice inside. That was obviously what the centering and meditation was about. Qui-Gon seemed to be pretty good at it -- He is a master, after all -- and I needed to learn better than I knew then. And meanwhile, we kept on practicing.

"How do you do it, Qui-Gon?" I asked, after catching my breath. He'd taken me apart at _MAYBE_ a quarter speed when I'd tried to get a blow -- any blow -- in on him in a drill. He had a bit of a smirk on his face while he was doing it, too, the stinker. "I mean, for example, here I am, a true klutz, and you're not in hysterics at my efforts. How do you stay centered?"

"It takes long practice to do so, certainly. And I have my weaknesses."

"I haven't seen too many," I replied. "I'll admit, I haven't seen many situations, but it's not something I'm used to, to see a man who's just -- calm, all the time."

"Remember, I have been trained from infancy to know and control my emotions," he said. "And even then the lessons were dearly won." I saw the flicker of sorrow cross his features, and I could feel him shutting down the memory. "For the rest, I must -- listen, and let the Force guide me. And I've been trained to do that as well. These are new things to you. You must give yourself time to adjust to your new senses and perceptions. Soon you will understand more."

"I hope so," I said. "I can tell that you have emotions, it's most likely because I'm so tuned into you. But for all my life, I've sought objectivity. A viewpoint not quite so influenced by my hormones or glands, of whatever sorts that apply."

He chuckled. "Succinctly put. And that is a worthy goal, Belinda. But it takes much training and practice, and listening."

"There's that listening thing again. Qui-Gon, how do you tell the difference? I'm doing my best, but it's hard to tell. Maybe I'm just a bit short on practice -- not to mention patience -- but it's important to know."

"Indeed it is," he replied. "Your -- glands -- can fool you, certainly. But even now you know the difference, don't you? Although I have certainly inflicted more pain on you than Xanatos, you haven't lashed out at me."

"I trust you," I said. "I respect your power and ability, even admire it -- but I know you aren't out to hurt me."

"Do you?" he asked. "I will if I must. Defend yourself." He got a look in his eye that scared the hell out of me, and came at me.

It took only seconds, like any real fight. He wasn't kidding; he quickly and easily got me around the neck and began to shake and choke me like Teek had, just two weeks before. As it became more difficult to breathe and the darkness closed around my vision, I weakened, became afraid, but I was able to find a few shreds of sense and held on to them for all I was worth. With a last desperate effort, I twisted in his hands and managed to break his grip somehow, and found and used the Force to fling him from me, about twenty feet away. He landed in a graceful roll, smiling as I gasped for breath, wavering on my hands and knees, tears in my eyes.

"I did it again," I whispered, now weeping and shaking. I dropped into myself once more, feeling that I'd failed.

"Did what, Belinda?" he asked. He came to me and took my shoulders. "You didn't hurt me, you merely pushed me away. That shows discipline. You were even beyond the point where Teek had you, because you were tired from the drills before this. You did the right thing when faced with a more powerful opponent. The Force is our ally, not our enemy. You've done well."

"I have? I don't feel like it. I feel exhausted and sore."

"Part of that may be from the bruises I just gave you. Let me help you with them." His hands were big, and as strong and hard as they had been just moments before, they were that gentle now, finding and soothing swelling and pain from his harsh treatment. He didn't apologize -- he'd warned me, after all. I could feel that he was sorry that he'd had to hurt me, but actually proud that I'd learned so quickly. Quickly? I feel like the village idiot. His touch was warm, and again, I enjoyed it. I closed my eyes, and he sent me to sleep, helping me into healing trance.

I didn't wake until early the next morning; early enough that Qui-Gon was still asleep, before dawn. I felt remarkably well, only stiff and a little sore. I rose quietly and left Slan snoozing on Qui-Gon's chest while I tended to my business; I washed, changed, and ran the inevitable errand. And rather than be chided about not doing it, I decided to take the time to meditate a bit. I had to learn how to do it on my own sooner or later, now wasn't a bad time, as the stars were fading in the purple pre-dawn sky. I felt unsettled now, and it was surprising to me that I did quickly find my center. Well, time to find out what was bugging me, also before Qui-Gon awoke. He'd pick it to pieces, and I wasn't in the mood for that. So. I took inventory, as he'd taught me. Had something changed since the day before? Sure, I'd found I wasn't a monster, which had been quite comforting. I'd found that Qui-Gon had confidence in me, which made me feel better. Way better. I'd also found that over the past weeks, rather than diminishing, my admiration and affection for Qui-Gon had grown as I learned from him, spent time with him. Instead of the silly crush on a two-dimensional celluloid movie character that had confounded the first few days we'd had together, as time went on the feelings had grown deeper, more mature and even profound. Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes opening as I realized where I'd gone.

I was falling in love with the man behind the enigma of the Jedi Master. I hoped it wasn't too plain. All I could do was to stay shielded as much as I could, to stay as calm as possible, and be with the moment as he taught, so I could treasure and appreciate his kindness and care. I knew this time wouldn't last forever -- I was surprised he'd delayed speaking to his Council this long. The "broken beacon" excuse was a fine one while it lasted, but I knew in my heart that it was something to buy time, and it was wearing thin. Perhaps he'd already contacted them while I wasn't around. And then there was the problem of relationships being forbidden between teacher and student. If he wasn't my teacher, I didn't know what he was. Was he my friend? Gods, I hardly knew if he liked me or not. I knew very little of what was permitted anyway, or if he already had someone special. And what was that the movie said about Jedi not being permitted love? That bit the big one. I had a hard time believing that, but there it was. What would I do? He certainly didn't belong to me; he belonged to the Force, to the Jedi, to the entire galaxy, here, much as I wished it were otherwise. Even with his alarming lack of vanity or even consideration of his appearance and manner, I couldn't be the only woman who'd fallen for him. His compassion, gallantry and gently subtle humor must have fascinated and snared many like me, unless women were totally different here; somehow I couldn't think that. If we were wired enough the same to speak the same language, and even to appreciate some of the same humor, there must be some cultural similarity. We'd spoken frankly about things like birth control and fertility, and though I knew the facts, I didn't have much of the cultural attitudes. He just didn't know, didn't concern himself with that.

I gathered that Jedi weren't exactly encouraged to have families. Given the nature of the work, I could understand that attitude, but wouldn't it behoove the Galaxy for Force Sensitives to reproduce? I felt sure that it was at least part of the time a genetic tendency (look at the Skywalkers, after all), but Qui-Gon said it was not inevitable. In a way I could understand the custom; Force Sensitives were dangerous under some circumstances, I was certainly ample proof of that. Now, if someone were to hurt my baby, I would be hard pressed to stay on the straight and narrow. But I didn't stand much of a chance of being able to reproduce here. It made me sad, in a way. I'd always assumed I'd marry and have children; most everyone did where I came from, even if it wasn't a good idea. Of course, my track record with relationships could be much better, I guessed. Always the wrong man at the wrong time. Why should this be any different? I sighed. Not much to do, then. I just had to let it be. I didn't want to embarrass him or make any trouble for him. I had to keep my shields up and accept that it wasn't in the cards, at least not this way. I could only hope that I could remain his friend and keep him in my life. I didn't want to lose him, and my emotions now might ensure that he stayed clear of me after he brought me back. Best to give it up to the Force, and let it go. I finally found my center once more, and brought myself back to relative calm after my panicky ruminations.

I heard Qui-Gon stirring and went off to wash my face and compose myself. I hoped that I wasn't being too melodramatic, that would be even more humiliating than loving a man who was simply unavailable. I'd just have to get over myself, pronto.

A few days later, I came upon him in the clearing where he normally meditated. This time, he wasn't seated in his usual contemplative pose, but standing and addressing an image -- a hologram. I stopped and stared, fascinated. He seemed to be speaking to Yoda -- the figure was small, green, and had pointy ears and a high growly voice. He still seemed a bit like the puppet in the movie -- either it was a tribute to Frank Oz, or a problem with the holo projector.

"Master, I feel that I have been charged by the Force with her instruction. She is very sensitive, and might have trouble with the enormous amount of sentient life on Coruscant. Her shielding has greatly improved, but I am concerned that she may suffer injury if she cannot keep herself adequately defended. Perhaps if we could go to a less densely populated center --"

"No, Qui-Gon, the woman to Coruscant you must bring. Healers there will be to treat her if it is needed. Share your apprehension, we do. Learn to shield, she must."

Qui-Gon bowed. "As you will, Master."

"Dismayed, the Council is, at Xanatos' interest in her. A tool of the Dark Side she could easily become."

"Not so easily as that, my Master. Her encounter with the Dark Side was most -- traumatic. I am confident that she is convinced of its danger." I smiled ruefully. _Damn skippy I am. But it's so -- easy... maybe he's right..._

"Subtle and hard to see, the Dark Side is, Qui-Gon. Danger there is around this woman."

"Certainly there is danger for her," he said, grimly. "Xanatos never forgets a slight."

"Then best protect her in the Temple we can. Discuss it further we shall, in Council. Dispatched a ship will be; prepare her as best you can, you must." That seemed to be his final word, and Qui-Gon knew it. He bowed.

"Yes, my Master," he said. The transmission ended. Half the battle is knowing when you're outnumbered, after all.

He turned to look at me. "You heard all of that?" he asked.

"Enough. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy, but I won't apologize for eavesdropping. A tool of the Dark Side, eh? I'm not surprised he'd think of me that way, somehow."

"I know better, Belinda. He will too, after he's met you and spoken with you."

"I hope so. I'm still not so sure of myself, Qui-Gon. I guess I just need more confidence, and practice." So we practiced some more over the next three days. I did my level best, and actually succeeded in shielding strongly. It was, as I had told Qui-Gon, its own reward in a way; the peace I had from the hubbub of life on the island was downright restful. Slan didn't like it so much, but I reassured him that I was just learning what he already knew, and he thought that was very funny. I explained that we were going to take a long trip on a ship, and he was excited. I was too, truth be told.

"I've never traveled in space before," I explained, when Qui-Gon remarked on it. "At least, not in a ship. In my culture, space travel is fairly new, not more than 50 years old. It still involves a lot of special preparations and complicated control. There's no faster-than-light travel, no repulsors, none of that. The only way we can escape the Earth's gravity well is with really big rockets, burning hydrogen for fuel, or solid rocket fuel. Inefficient at best, not to mention that sitting on tons of explosives can really ruin your day."

He nodded. "Well, it's not very exciting here, really."

"Maybe to you," I said. "I'll be downright silly. Golly whiz and all that. I'll try not to drool, but I make no promises. I love technology."

He chuckled. "I suppose that's as much as I can hope for, then. It is quite wonderful, though," he said. "One often forgets."

I shrugged. "I haven't had the chance yet. Do you know the person who's supposed to come get us?" I asked. "Or is it some anonymous pilot?"

"As a matter of fact, the Council is sending Master Mace Windu," Qui-Gon said. I raised an eyebrow. "Is he in your fiction, as well?"

"He is," I replied. "But there are many things here that are different. Remember that the story I know is in your future, Qui-Gon. I don't feel comfortable speaking of it."

He nodded. "I know. It is intriguing, though."

"Yes, and I don't mean to be mysterious or any other such nonsense, I just have a bad feeling about telling you. Like I'm being told not to. So--"

"Yes. You must trust your feelings, Belinda. I agree."

"Well, under the same circumstances I'd be very curious, so I admire your restraint."

Slan put his nose in my face. /_Story about me? Tell story!_ /

"No, Slan, I never heard about critters like you until I met you, I'm sorry to say." I stroked his warm fur and he wiggled his backside. "You would have livened up the proceedings, I'm sure."

He giggled. _/Like the story about hobbits -- tell more? _/

"Later, if Qui-Gon likes and we're not too tired. I didn't know you liked that. It's one of my favorite stories."

_/Me too!_ /

I raised an eyebrow. "Never a dull moment with you around, pal. I'm glad you like it."


	6. Chapter 6

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

"They're coming, Qui-Gon," I said, as we finished our sparring session. I seemed to be a bit less self-destructive with the drills and the quarterstaff, and I'd actually learned a thing or two about how to handle myself -- as much the concept of fighting back as anything else. My previous defenses had usually consisted of a deafening shriek and purely instinctive reaction, and they'd usually been effective as far as they'd been needed before I'd met the man of my nightmares; though I would be the first to admit to a fairly sheltered life, even as an EMT, before I'd come to this place.

"You maintained your concentration well, Belinda," he observed. "Good work."

"Thank you," I said, coloring a bit at the compliment. They were, thank the stars, coming a bit more often. Now he surprised me.

"What do you feel?" He asked, as we put our things away. "Stretch out your senses and tell me your impressions -- and mind your shielding."

I was thrown for a moment; his instruction had always been for me to hide and protect myself. But I dutifully calmed myself as much as I could, and closed my eyes, reaching out to feel what I could, as he had asked. Reaching out and shielding was something like patting my head and rubbing my belly at the same time, but after what Qui-Gon had required of me for the past few weeks, it wasn't as difficult as it had seemed. I immediately understood why he would have me do this when I was able to make contact.

"There are two of them. The elder must be Master Windu, he's very calm and centered, and I sense a great deal of power and understanding in him -- but very different from you, even within the same kind of discipline, does that make sense? The other one is young, but he knows more than I do about shielding and such, I'll bet. He's busy trying to feel me, too, I think You set us up." I smiled up at him. "He seems quite sweet. Perhaps it's a Padawan?"

He nodded, and gave me a brief, good-humored look. "You are perceptive, and you're learning well. Let's clean up and pack, shall we?"

"A wash is definitely in order. I have to admit, I"m looking forward to a hot bath sometime in the foreseeable future. Bubbles. Soap. A scrub brush. Even a holystone, I may need one by now. I've got grime on my dirt."

He chuckled. "I'll be happy with a change of clothes and a shower, myself. We'll be able to get that on board ship."

I groaned. "So close, yet so far. Lead on, Master -- don't worry, I'll quit it after we're on board. I'll be too busy being amazed. I'm sure Master Windu would consider the title a trifle irregular. He's quite a fine Jedi, isn't he?"

"He is one of the best of us, and a good friend," he replied.

"It's still so new to me, feeling people like this, and under my own steam," I replied, picking up my clean clothes. "It's like living in another world, even more than the little dragons and the other things I've seen. Even now, when I should be used to you, I still find it incredible sometimes." _How can I say this?_ _I had to tell him, at least something._ I took a deep breath and just decided to go for it. "Qui-Gon, seriously -- I owe you my life and my soul. I can never truly thank you, but I want you to know that I'm very grateful to you." I touched his chest, to feel his life under my hand, so warm and comforting. "And I hope we can be friends, after this has been sorted out somehow. I would be very sorry to lose you from my life." I put a hand on his cheek, smiling up at him. He was glowingly alive under my fingers, and he turned a bit to my caress. This world he had given me was wonderful and frightening all at once, and I felt exhilarated and shaky at the same time.

"It is not easy to have a Jedi as a friend," he replied quietly.

"I didn't ask for easy," I said. "You've known me for long enough to know that I never do things the easy way. You have your calling, your faith. I respect that, and you know it. I know what you do is risky, that there are no guarantees." I took a deep breath. "But I also know that it has been a joy to meet you, to find you here at what I thought had to be the end of my life. You've made it the beginning of a new one, with the opportunity to learn from you. It has been wonderful, to find out who you are and grow to appreciate a fine man. If that feeling is wrong, if it's not allowed, then I am wrong. I hope it's not; I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble. It doesn't _feel_ wrong."

"What you ask is harder still."

_Oh, well, so much for keeping my feelings under wraps. Open mouth, insert foot._ I shrugged. "I wasn't under the impression that I was asking anything, Qui-Gon. I do not mean to offend. Like I said, I don't do easy. You're worth it." I stroked his cheek as I lowered my hand, and he closed his eyes briefly and let me feel that he returned my affection, the first such indication he'd given. Then he smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I almost fainted.

"We shall see, little one." His voice was soft and gentle.

It had been a long time since anyone had called me little. I supposed he could if he wanted. _Anything but late to dinner, and even then_ -- I was shaken, but I wasn't sorry I'd said it. It would have been wrong not to thank him -- and foolish to assume he didn't know how I felt.

The next moment he shifted right back to being the Master. He was good at that, and perhaps more comfortable with it too. "Come along," he said briskly. "And be mindful of your thoughts."

I nodded. "I will. But I needed to let you know that. You do understand."

"Yes," he said, gently. "And perhaps you will, in time."

"I hope so." **_Huh?_**

The ship wasn't as large as I thought it would be. For some reason I had visions of the Mother Ship coming and squashing the trees and blowing my poor old box off the side of the ridge to the tune of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. In reality, it was a graceful wedge-shaped craft, about thirty or forty meters long, with a crescent-shaped wing on the back and a lovely sleek line. Sort of like a clean version of the Millennium Falcon, perhaps, with her clothes on. The pilot set it down on a dime, the landing gear in a tripod hardly disturbing the sand. Slan was hiding in my neck and scolding at the noise. I wondered if someone wasn't showing off. Sure enough, a half-smile quirked Qui-Gon's face. He put a hand on my back, and looked down at me.

"You've never seen a ship land," he said.

"Well, I missed yours, and I have the idea that it may have lacked the, erm, panache of this one." I teased him a bit, to show that not much had changed despite my earlier words.

He chuckled. "It certainly did, although I fancy I do deserve a better entrance rating."

"For falling into my arms and bleeding? I suppose it rates much higher on the theatrical scale," I replied, chuckling with him. The gangplank came down from the center of the front section, and a tall, graceful man in immaculate Jedi robes came down, followed by a much smaller form. The tall man was dark-skinned and bald, all right, but instead of the matter-of-fact 'whoop-ass' competence of Samuel L. Jackson, this man had the proud bearing and high bold facial bones of a Masai prince, combined with the neat, assured movements of a dancer or a gymnast. The closest I could think of was Paul Robeson, that regal stance and stark beauty. His eyes were deep violet as I met them and their cool probe. He did not presume, but seemed nonetheless to take my measure, and I didn't immediately know if I'd passed the test. I bowed slightly to him, as Qui-Gon did. The young boy was fine-boned and wide-eyed, with a riot of short dark curls and a small Padawan braid on the side bound with one cord and a single bead, seemingly struggling for release. _Whose hair does Mace use for the braid?_ I wondered, irrelevantly. _Best not go there. _The child did his best to be a good little Jedi, standing behind his Master and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. _Call him Ditto, he's adorable._

"Qui-Gon," Mace said, with a genuine smile, after he had released me from his scrutiny. "It's good to see you, my friend." He embraced his fellow Knight with obvious affection. "We thought you were finished for awhile. You're amazingly solid for a phantom, though. And this is the young woman in question?"

"She has the power of speech," Qui-Gon said, dryly. "Master Mace Windu, this is Belinda Kyle."

He offered his hand, and when I reached mine to him he took it and kissed it gently, bowing a bit.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Windu," I said. I was a bit nonplussed by the gesture, but smiled anyway. Doing a curtsy seemed to be the correct response, but as I was wearing ragged denim shorts, it seemed a moot point.

"And may I present my new Padawan, Jax Linsee," Mace said. The small form was standing straight and tall; he was all of six or seven as far as I could tell, and at the mention of his name, he bowed deeply to Qui-Gon. He looked -- and felt -- _really excited_, and I knew suddenly that usually children of his age weren't allowed to accompany their Masters on missions, and he was _special!_ I had all I could do not to laugh at his enthusiasm, but I grinned at him instead.

Qui-Gon bowed formally to the little Padawan, with a very bright smile for him. "I'm pleased to meet you, young Padawan."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Master Jinn," he replied, as though he had been carefully coached. "And Miss Kyle." He shook my hand gravely.

"My pleasure, Padawan Linsee," I said, following the cue. Master Windu looked down on him fondly. He was really very sweet.

"May I help you with your things?" he asked, eagerly. "May I see where you stayed? Did you really make a house out of a crate? What's this?" he asked, indicating Slan.

"Yes, to all of them, young one," Qui-Gon said, chuckling. "But Belinda made the house, and this is her friend, Slan. He is a Peroota Cat. Come here with us, and we will show you." Master Windu looked a tiny bit uncomfortable at his Padawan's enthusiasm.

Jax trotted along with Qui-Gon, Slan on Qui-Gon's shoulder talking all the way.

"I didn't realize that Padawans were chosen at such a young age, Master Windu," I said.

"He is eight," Master Windu said, as though that should mean something. _What it means is that Lucas and his outfit was wrong. thank heaven for that._ "And he is a fine boy. Not many Padawans can be taken from the Temple at such a young age."

"He certainly is," I replied, smiling. "So, here are the digs. I was thinking maybe a veranda and a hot tub over here..."

He cocked an eye at me and chuckled. "Yes, it's a bit austere, isn't it? Qui-Gon said that you'd done most of this before he got here."

"I had several weeks, and the stuff was here. Since I had no plans to lay down and die immediately, it was more convenient to make life a bit livable. It's a lovely place, but the location stinks. I'd think it would be prime real estate, actually. Why is it that there aren't any colonies or industry here?"

"As a matter of fact, there are legends about this planet -- that strange things come and go here, things appear that cannot be explained. It seems that they're true."

"Oh. Like the region of my planet where I came from. There's certainly some kind of effect, but I don't know what. I have no reason to think I can ever go back, so here I am. Guess you're kind of stuck with me." He nodded, and considered quietly. Considered _me_ quietly, more accurately. I picked up my bag with the old clothes, the books, and the other little things that had kept me sane, and my quarterstaff. That was it, all there was. Slan trotted back over and patted my leg. I absently reached down and he climbed up to my shoulder. "Say hello to Master Windu, Slan. He's going to take us to Coruscant."

/_Hello Master sir. Take care of Lyn? _/ He offered his hand to Master Windu, who took it gravely.

"Hello, Slan," he said. "We're doing our best. I'm sure you are, too." I liked this guy. He was a ladies' man, though; it was easy to tell, used to getting his way with women. Had to keep an eye on that. Slan evidently liked him, too, because he swung over to his shoulder, which seemed to amuse Windu greatly.

"Fickle fellow," I said, grinning at him. "I think he may be a Jedi groupie."

/_Groupie_?/

_Just that you like them, Slan_.

"This little guy kept me from going out of my mind before Master Jinn arrived," I said to Master Windu. "Of course, I didn't know he was so able to communicate then. I hadn't any idea what had happened."

"Oh? You weren't telepathic before?"

"No, not that I knew of," I said. "This is all very new to me. If it wasn't for Master Jinn, I'd most likely be dead -- or worse. Sounds melodramatic to me even now, but I know it's true. It just took me being beaten around the head and shoulders with the equivalent of a really big tree to figure it out."

"I believe you. It is often difficult for an adult to learn the ways of the Force," he said.

"I hope I can be trained well enough so that I'm not a danger to everyone around me." I sighed. "I'd like to learn to be a Healer if that's possible. I was an Emergency Medical Tech where I came from -- you know, first-in medical help?"

"There's always need for that," he said. "Often Healers come to the Temple later in life. Some even develop sensitivity to the Force at puberty or even later. I'm confident that they can help you."

I smiled. "I suppose I'll have my work cut out for me between that and playing catch-up in my education, but I'll just have to do my best."

"An admirable attitude," he said, smiling. "You don't seem to be afraid of hard work."

"No, that's fine with me. I need to be working, it's just the way I am."

/_Busy Lyn, happy Lyn. _/ Slan giggled at me.

"You know me pretty well, Slan. I'm glad you're coming with me. Someone has to keep me in order." I skritched him gently. "Of course, that begs the question of who will keep _you_ in order, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Slan found that very funny, and almost fell off my shoulder. Master Windu chuckled, too; Slan's mirth was downright contagious.

"Now you know who runs things around here," I said. "It sure isn't me."

Jax came out with Qui-Gon, asking twenty questions a minute. Qui-Gon looked genuinely pleased with his company. I grinned to see him. He was truly in his element, indulgently answering questions and teaching him to think for himself with the answers. I knew that he was wonderful with me, but he was magic with the boy.

Master Windu followed my gaze and smiled. "Yes, Qui-Gon is wonderful with children, they all love him. He's just in tune with them. Sometimes his Master would say that it was because he never grew up, but it really was because he had grown up enough to see from a child's view as well. He's the best teacher I've ever seen."

_Oh, Gods, can **he** read my mind? Oh, no... _"He was certainly wonderful with me. I know less than the tiniest child about many things here, and he was endlessly patient." I sighed, and I suddenly realized that the reason he _didn't_ have a Padawan now had damn near slapped me silly a couple of weeks before. I cleared my throat, and suddenly thought of something. "Slan, is there anything you want to take with you?"

/_Slan have bag?_ /

"We can arrange that," I said. "You liked this one, you can have it. Is it big enough for what you want to take?" I gave him my paisley cosmetic bag. Since I figured I didn't need any cosmetics, it was going to be left behind. "See, it zips, like this." I showed him, and he was delighted with it. He scampered off to his corner, the bag slung over his shoulder with the little strap. "Darn. I didn't think of that before. I wonder what he's going to take?"

"I'll be interested in finding out," Master Windu said.

"What is Slan doing?" Qui-Gon asked, coming back to look at Slan bemusedly.

"I gave him a bag for his loot," I said, smiling. "I just thought of asking him if there was anything he wanted to keep, and he asked for a bag."

"May we have a look at what you're bringing?" Master Windu said. "Just for safety's sake."

"Of course, Master Windu. Qui-Gon has seen all of it before," I replied. "Nothing new here... Hey, buddy, we have to have Master Qui-Gon and Master Windu check our things so we don't bring anything bad with us. Okay?"

"'Kay!" he said, one of the only words he could form. He went right to Qui-Gon with his bag full of treasures, and proudly handed them over. One of the shells had a live occupant, something rather like a hermit crab. Qui-Gon convinced Slan that the critter would be happier if it stayed on the island, and Slan sadly waved goodbye to it when we brought it back to the shore.

"What are these?" Master Windu said, as he examined my bag.

"Oh, they're data storage media, called compact disks. They're read with one of these, a laser player... they're music, in various formats. I like odd sorts of music, so I carry my own as often as not."

"And these are musical instruments?" He asked.

This called a guitar, this is a violin or fiddle. They're acoustic instruments, made out of wood. I sing, too, when provoked." He chuckled. "As a weapon?"

I snorted. "Don't know so much about that anymore. Ask Qui-Gon; it may be more effective than my self-defense is now. Slan seems to like it, though I'm not sure if he has a good ear for music."

"You sing songs?" Jax asked.

"Sometimes," I replied. "I like music, but I don't know a thing about the kind of music you listen to. Will you show me?"

He looked to his master dutifully, and Master Windu nodded. He grinned sunnily and said, "Sure, I'd like to do that! Master Jinn says you have a really great book you read to him. May I listen tonight?"

"If your Master says it's all right, it's fine with me. It's a wonderful book; it's one of my very favorites. But I can't read your lettering very well yet; it's in my alphabet. That's a different way to write this language, what you call Basic."

"That's interesting," he said. "Where do you come from?"

"That's enough questions, Padawan," Master Windu said, patiently. _Well-timed, too. Oops, did it again, Kyle. They must want to keep it under wraps._ "We must get underway shortly. Is there anything else you would like to take?"

"Nothing here. This is all I came with, minus a few chunks of clothing, a few illusions and other odds and ends that I won't miss at all. The only things I'll miss are the shiny butterflies and the little dragons that eat them. I never want to see another banana or food bar again." Qui-Gon chuckled, and they led us to the ship.

It didn't feel like a trip into a new life, it just felt like a step. I was tempted to do the 'One Step for a Man' bit, but the only person that would make sense to would be me. I just hoped my knees trembling wouldn't be too noticeable.

The ship was more spacious inside than one would have thought; evidently the works were mostly in the stern wing. There were four tiny cabins, two on either side of the ship, and a 'fresher (I'd learn to call it that if it killed me; I'd learned to call the window in the ship a porthole, after all...) with a shower toward the stern. We went to a forward compartment that must have been a lounge or briefing room after we stowed our things, and strapped in to adjacent chairs for the liftoff. Jax went up into the cockpit with Master Windu. I held Slan, who clung to me for dear life during the noise and vibration of liftoff.

"It's all right, buddy," I said, comforting him. "Nothing bad is going to happen this time. This is exciting, really."

/_Lyn not scared?_ /

"Well, maybe a little. But it's a lot better than I expected. Don't worry; I'll take care of you."

/_Love you!_ /

_I love you too, sweetie. We castaways have to stick together, after all._ Maybe I should have called him Gilligan.

I looked out of the viewport on the side of the compartment and in a few minutes we had cleared the atmosphere. My sense of up and down gave a lurch for a moment, and then things were fine. It wasn't any worse than a plane takeoff. We were above the planet now, and I saw an unfamiliar blue-and-green circle hanging in space -- _another planet_, where I'd lived for several months. _Another planet. Another universe, perhaps. Amazing._ Qui-Gon put a hand on my shoulder as I stared out the port, entranced. He smiled.

"You said you always wanted to go into space. Here you are, then," he said. "What do you think?"

"I'll let you know after we make the jump to lightspeed," I replied, smiling a bit nervously. "That's totally new territory."

"It's not bad. You may be a bit disoriented at first, but the technology is proven and safe."

"I know; it's just a lot to deal with. You folks travel between star systems like I would travel between cities on my world. It's mind-boggling. And even different sentient species -- I had never seen anything like that, and I'm going to have to adjust to the idea pronto."

"I expect that's why they sent Mace to get us," he said.

"Oh, so I wouldn't freak out? Makes sense. But I have to admit, I'm something of a xenophile, even after that first experience. I'm quite looking forward to it."

He smiled. "It is wonderful. We have a diverse lot of cultures in the Republic. It can make for friction, but it's very interesting to see how people adapt to their environments, and how the environments change from the civilizations."

"I'd think that it would be a lifetime's study, or more. And the interactions -- that must be a whole other kettle of fish."

"Indeed. Many Jedi diplomats specialize in that field, in the relationships in a specific area of the Republic."

"The Jedi must be the glue that holds the Republic together," I said. "Without your special abilities, such a huge government would fall apart pretty quickly."

"I've heard us called that," he said.

"Sounds like a big job."

Master Windu's voice came from some hidden speaker or another. "We'll be making the jump to lightspeed in a few moments. All secure?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "Thank you."

I expected the jump to be something traumatic, but except for a brief feeling of floating dizziness, there was no real sensation. We were simply traveling in a different manner; Qui-Gon unbuckled his harness and indicated that I could do the same. Slan looked around happily, trying to find something to eat. Qui-Gon got him a fruit of some kind.

"Would you like to shower first?" Qui-Gon asked, courteously.

"Well, maybe you should go first," I replied. "It may take me awhile. My mom always used to tell me, dirt likes me. Usually while she was trying to untangle my hair."

He chuckled. "Amazing, my Master used to tell me the very same thing. Very well, I'll go first. Thank you." So, off he went, and Jax came back to keep me company. He smiled up at me shyly.

"Miss Kyle, how are you doing?" he asked. "Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm fine. You can call me Lyn, if you like."

"Oh. All right, I'm Jax. I'm glad we could help you. My Master says that you don't know Aurebesh very well. Would you like me to help you to learn?"

"Why, thank you, I'd very much appreciate that. Master Jinn taught me a little, but we concentrated on me learning control and shielding." He produced a datapadd and made it bring up a primer. He obviously took his responsibility very seriously, and was downright solemn as he showed me the beginning exercises in Aurebesh. A bit later, Master Windu came back and smiled at Jax, and tousled his hair fondly.

"Maybe Miss Kyle would like a rest before starting to study, Padawan."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lyn --" he said.

'Not at all. Master Windu, please call me Lyn. I appreciate Jax helping me, really. I've got a lot to learn, and this is as good a place to start as any."

"That is true, but you've been through a lot as well. Qui-Gon should be done by now. There's a droid that will measure you and provide you with some simple clothing. It's not much, but it will be clean. And please do call me Mace."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that, and the opportunity to get clean. Not to mention, it's much more socially acceptable. I'd hate to make a bad impression."

"We've managed to stay downwind," he said, dryly. I chuckled.

"She doesn't smell bad, Master!" Jax said, shocked.

"He was teasing me, Jax," I replied. "I think your Master is a pretty accomplished leg puller. Thank you very much, Mace."

Qui-Gon came in looking very neat, comfortable and clean in new clothing. "Ah," he said, "you've discovered Mace's character defects."

"A sense of humor?" I asked. "Oh, right, a Jedi must be of serious mind. How dull life in the Jedi Temple must be." Both Qui-Gon and Mace laughed at that one, and Jax grinned. I sketched a bow. "See you later, gentlemen."

I went back to the 'fresher and was met with a droid, the first one I'd seen. This one looked like a cross between an ashcan and what I assumed was some sort of clothing assembler.

"Finally," it said, in a rather annoyed and prissy voice that reminded me of C3P0. "Take your clothes off, we haven't got all day."

"Jeez," I said. "You could at least buy a girl a drink." Guffaws from the companionway told me that Mace and Qui-Gon had been listening, perhaps coming along to guide me if I had trouble. I shrugged and dropped my clothes with few second thoughts. If they had cameras or other surveillance devices, I doubted if I had anything that they hadn't seen before. And hey, I looked fairly decent now, even if I had so many layers of dirt one on top of another that I _was_ almost dressed. _What the hell_.

"Now," the droid said. "Arms out to the sides, straight. Now forward." As it instructed me it scanned me with what looked like R2D2's eye, obviously some sort of optical input device. I briefly caught sight of a grid on my skin. I turned around when instructed, and finally it actually asked me to lift my feet. You're female," it said.

_Duh_. "Yes."

"What form of support garment do you prefer?"

"Ever heard of a brassiere?" I asked. "Like this?" I held the offending (and offensive) garment up. It was pretty damn ratty.

"What does a container for hot coals have to do with a human female's breast support garment?" it asked, irritably. I could detect some amusement somewhere, but not outside the door. _Have a ball, fellas. _

_I give up. When in Rome_... "All right, how about the standard for human females of my build?"

"Very well. Run along, dear, the clothing will be ready in fifteen minutes," it said, dismissively.

_Great. I've just been patronized by a machine._ I didn't know how to address it, so I told it, "Thank you," and got into the shower. I sniffed the assemblage of products and discarded the obviously male ones, and came up with what I had to assume was a shampoo and body wash with a slightly fruity/flowery scent meant for women. Now I looked around. No knobs, no visible jets or shower heads. _Now what?_

I shrugged, poked my head out of the door, and asked the droid, "How do I take a shower?"

"There's a panel at about 150 centimeters from the floor," it said, sounding irritated. It also seemed to be making other noises, perhaps connected with the construction of clothing. "Press it for the shower controls. Really. I'm not a valet."

"Right. Uh, thanks." _Okay, let's do it, then._ I found the panel in question, and when pressed, it turned around and displayed a touchpad with a button in the middle and Aurebesh letters for 'H' and 'C' on either end. I pushed it, and several jets from the top and side of the enclosure came on with a fairly cold spray. I yelped and pushed the 'H' a time or two and the shower became hotter, and I just groaned in bliss. It was _wonderful_, better than most sex I remembered. _Oh, Gods, let's not go there, all right? Think of something else, get your mind out of the gutter now, Kyle_. I washed and scrubbed layers of dirt off with the soap and a brush kindly provided, and after a seemly but too short time reluctantly managed to get it to stop and managed to figure out how to get it to dry me. It did, with warm air jets from the same places in the wall where the water had come out. I looked for a towel and found a decent one, and rubbed my hair dry.

There was a tray set out with what looked enough like nail trimmers and other implements of hygiene (or destruction) and they were universal enough so that I was able to guess their purpose. I further cleaned and trimmed my nails, brushed my teeth, and surveyed the incomprehensible array of what I assumed must be other hygiene products. I could use a touch up, certainly, but I had no idea what was what, and had no intention of looking like Bozo the Clown from using the wrong color -- or even worse, coming out in hives from something. My skin was clearer than it had been since I was ten years old and puberty had begun to rear its ugly head. I intended to keep it that way.

At least I'd had the sense to bring in my comb and hairbrush, and I brushed my hair down after I'd toweled it dry as much as I could. The humidity of the room still made it wildly frizzy. I looked around, and sure enough, there were the clothes -- well-fitting tunic, vest, and trousers similar to the Jedi's, with boots. The material for the trousers and vest seemed to be the same as the one used for Qui-Gon's tunics, a heavy weave of what felt like raw silk, or perhaps hemp. The tunic seemed lighter and more flexible. They were several shades of green, though, and the boots were brown. I didn't recall asking for the colors, but I like any color as long as it's green; it was fine. I couldn't find my old clothes, and I was frankly uninterested in them. I hoped they could be recycled or something.

The 'support garment' was another short stretchy sleeveless top, so light as to be almost transparent except when it was on. After a failed attempt at getting it on over my head, I found the crossover closure in the front, where it belonged; it seemed to be almost magnetic. It was comfortable and airy, and supported my rather overgenerous bustline firmly and attractively but flexibly. I couldn't for the life of me figure out the engineering, but I didn't care if it had repulsorlifts in it. I was convinced; so long underwires.

Otherwise, underwear and socks are fairly universal, and I was able to figure out the rest of the clothing easily enough. I pulled the fronts of my hair back with a barrette I had in my bag, and put on the boots. They appeared to have been made for me as well, and they were very comfortable. I took a look at myself in the mirror. Acceptable. I stuck out my tongue, turned and left. I put my things back in my cabin and went into the main compartment to see Jax hard at work on his schoolwork, with Mace helping him. I smiled, and saw Qui-Gon reading a datapadd and looking to be catching up on his messages. I found the datapadd that held my Aurebesh lesson and started studying again.


	7. Chapter 7

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

Rather than the nerve-wracking interval I had almost expected, the trip to Coruscant proved to be mostly quiet and downright pleasant. There was no inquisition; whatever information Mace may have needed, he seemed to get from my interactions with him, Qui-Gon, and Jax. I taught Jax how to play chess, and Mace learned, too. They then proceeded to beat me soundly from the second game on; they quite enjoyed the game, however, and Mace and Qui-Gon had a few rip-roaring matches. I could follow the moves and strategies -- barely -- but I knew when I was outclassed. It was absolutely awesome to see them think, and I was again taken by how competent they were, and how well trained.

Though we'd finished _The Lord of the Rings_ long before the trip, and had read _Dune_ and _Beowulf_ as substitutes (Qui-Gon had loved them), Qui-Gon (and Jax) requested that I start _The Lord of the Rings_ again, and I read it after the evening meal. Jax loved it, and Mace seemed to enjoy it as well. Jax wheedled a few songs out of me, even with the rather sorry shape of my guitar. So I sang him some silly songs, and he sang, too. He had a lovely sweet voice, and we had a lot of fun. I became very fond of him, it was hard not to. He continued tutoring me in Aurebesh, and was quite patient with me. And, of course, we all meditated together. In a group of four and in the huge empty silence of space, it was easier to find my center and calm myself. I had actually begun to seek the quiet of meditation -- it gave me a way to keep a lid on the feelings for Qui-Gon that seemed not only hopeless, but actually even dangerous and wrong under the circumstances. The feelings didn't disappear, but they were certainly more manageable when I gave them up, the sillier and more adolescent aspects largely melted away. Meditation also gave me a reality check, a balance point, a place from which to view my life and my actions. I had somehow learned not only to tolerate it, but even to enjoy it in our time together. Even Jax could sit still better than I could, though. I actually meditated better in motion. Jax eagerly showed me some of the very elementary katas when we moved the furniture in the main lounge away. Mace and Qui-Gon helped too, and I did a lot of giggling, but I found the katas very helpful in maintaining concentration, an area where I was notably lacking.

Slan had a wonderful time exploring the ship. He did, however, manage to get into some trouble, mostly involving one droid or another. He considered the little sweeping droids to be a personal challenge, and often chased them around scolding madly. He also had to be shown how to use the toilet, which was a trick. It operated on vacuum, a very mild one for us, but noticeable for him. He was not amused. Qui-Gon took him in and showed him, because both Jax and Slan informed me that I was a _gir_l and I couldn't do that. _Gee, lately I hadn't noticed..._ Jax looked absolutely scandalized at the very idea. Evidently it was okay for Slan to watch me eliminate, but not for me to watch him. I sighed, and just walked away, shaking my head.

"What's the problem?" Mace asked.

"Slan got modest on me," I replied. "Qui-Gon is showing him how to use the 'fresher."

"Ah. Jax is just at that age," he said, smiling a bit. "I'm sorry he's been a bad influence."

"What, sorry that Jax has given Slan the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?" I asked. "I suppose it was inevitable, and that I did it myself. One of the older stories of the religion I was raised in had to do with that -- that the first people were cast from Paradise by that knowledge. I wonder if I'm doing the poor fellow a favor or not."

"He could no more have survived by himself than you," he said.

"That's true," I said. "Enough to make you stop believing in luck."

"It was the will of the Force that you be found," Mace said. "And that Qui-Gon find you."

I was a bit surprised to hear Mace say that. "Well, I don't feel like I have a direct pipeline," I replied. I was suddenly cold, and wrapped my arms around myself. "I have to trust you and Qui-Gon when you say that. I'll learn, I suppose, to hear it more, to understand it more. It's such an honor and responsibility. I just hope to be worthy of that."

"You are frightened." He sounded surprised, but respectful.

_Damn right._ "Yes," I replied. I didn't offer any more information, but he seemed determined to pursue the matter.

"Why is that?" he asked.

Though I had resolved to be honest with him, I was hesitant to tell him all of it. But it was probable that he already knew the worst. "Because I have a hell of a temper, that's why. And I found out what that can lead to the hard way."

"We all must meet the Dark Side," he said gently.

I sighed, but I was once more touched and gratified by his kindness. "Yes, but I missed the formal introduction." I shook my head. "And someone died because of it."

"You did what saved your life, and later displayed the ability to control yourself in a similar situation," he said. I definitely knew then that Qui-Gon had given a thorough report. "The fact that you take the Force and its use seriously is important."

"Oh, I take that as seriously as possible. Now, me, I don't take too seriously. There's no percentage in it."

"I wouldn't say that," he said. "You saved Qui-Gon's life."

"Well, that was the Will of the Force, too, then. It certainly wasn't because of any skill of mine. That scared me almost as much as the other incident did."

He nodded quietly. "The first time one really feels the Force, it can be quite frightening, especially if you haven't been trained to do so."

"I almost got lost," I said softly. "It was both amazing and terrifying at the same time." I shrugged. "It must seem like small doings to a Master, but even a small corner of the Force is incredible to someone who has never even considered the idea that it might exist and be accessible. Where I'm from -- it's a story, a fairy tale. Here it's as real as butter and eggs, and that took a good bit of getting used to."

He put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. It did, and he let me know that he understood my feelings quite well, and was willing to share that. "And are you used to it?" He asked, now keenly pursuing the matter.

"Not on your life," I said. "But I think I can keep from fainting. Though when I was able to do something it nearly gave me a heart attack."

He chuckled. "Oh, yes, Qui-Gon said that you show a good bit of aptitude in telekinesis. He was rather terse -- what happened?"

"Oh," I said, coloring, "it was rather embarrassing. He told me I could start with something light, and call it to me. Clothes, for instance, or a bandanna. So, he showed me the technique, and I did, and between that and -- erm, missing, my undergarments wound up wrapped around his face. They'd been drying on a stone nearby."

Caught unawares, he threw his head back and laughed heartily. It was a nice sound. "Gods, I wish I'd seen the look on his face."

"He was a perfect gentleman, as always," I said, now crimson with the memory and the effort of suppressing giggles. "He handed them back gravely, and told me I'd done a fine job, and we could move on to other objects and more control. But his ears were a fine color of red by the time he disentangled them." I shook my head. "And never a word afterward. Bless him."

It was exchanges like that -- several per day -- that confirmed my speculation that this was not just a 'retrieve the buddy' mission, but that Mace had been sent to do some sort of an evaluation. I just told him the truth. He'd doubtless know if I were lying anyway, so it was silly not to. I'm nothing if not pragmatic, at least when it's just my ego. I sensed that he was a shrewd, intelligent man, who had a keen grasp of human nature -- and perhaps he understood we mere mortals a bit better than Qui-Gon did, even though he was, perhaps, a bit less compassionate and more objective. I was sure that he was a fine and skillful negotiator, who could find out very quickly where the equities lay and work out flexible compromises. And, let's not forget -- he was devastatingly handsome and charming. I was certainly charmed, even while he was taking my measure. I couldn't help it; I'd never had so much attention from such gorgeous men. I figured that I might as well enjoy it.

The problems started soon after we strapped into our seats and dropped out of lightspeed on the approach to Coruscant. I could actually feel the presence of all that sentient life. It was like a pressure, and my head began to ache. I calmed myself and breathed deeply, seeking my center and strengthening my shields as I'd been taught, and the pain receded. Qui-Gon looked at me, concerned.

"I'm okay," I said. "I can feel it, though."

"Yes," he said. "Don't worry, we are here to help if you need it."

"Thank you," I replied. He took my hand and I accepted the silent support gratefully, smiling up at him. Slan snuggled up to my cheek and patted my hair, and I did feel better. "Does he have natural shields?" I asked.

"It appears so," he replied. "Often telepathic animals and untrained sentients do."

"Good. One less thing to worry about."

He smiled. "Indeed," he replied.

As we approached, what I could see of Coruscant was incredible -- soaring buildings and aircars came into focus as we descended into the atmosphere. It was bright and clean and shiny, but I could only see the upper levels. And it stretched as far as I could see, miles and miles in the clear thin air.

"How far above the actual surface of the planet are we?" I asked.

"About five kilometers," Qui-Gon replied.

I whistled. "How is the atmosphere cleaned for so many people? Are there underground facilities?"

"That's how most of it is done," he replied. "And there are plants in the parks."

"Gods, how do they process all the garbage?" I asked.

He chuckled. "It's a big job. Now. Attend to your shielding, Belinda."

I nodded. "Of course." It was taxing and difficult, but I was doing it. I hoped they had a rubber room somewhere, though, or I was toast. I wasn't sure I could keep it up.

As we landed, Qui-Gon suddenly looked perplexed and disturbed. "Mace, I understood that we were cleared to land directly in the Temple complex."

"As did I," Mace replied. "We were remotely routed to this landing platform for some reason. I will call and request explanation."

"Very well. I don't like it."

"I agree. We must be cautious," Mace said. I didn't like the sound -- or the feel -- of that, but there was little to do about it, since we had to get to the Temple somehow. I decided that I'd keep my head down and what wits I had about me, because the tense readiness seemed contagious. We unstrapped, grabbed our things and disembarked after we received suitable clearance. It seemed that we had been rerouted by computer. Convenient glitch or not, they were right, it didn't change the fact that we were going back to the Temple. Slan still had the little paisley bag I'd given him, and I grinned at him as he climbed onto Qui-Gon's shoulder for a better view as we disembarked.

It probably saved his life.

As we walked down the stairs, a sharp sting on my neck made me jump. I slapped at the offending pain, thinking it to be a Coruscanti mosquito or some such, but my hand came away bloody and holding a small needle-sharp dart. _Oh, no, hadn't that bounty hunter been killed like this?_

"Qui-Gon," I said thickly, holding out my hand, holding the dart. "Tell Mace to get Jax back in the ship."

My voice sounded odd, and I felt funny. I knew I was falling, but I couldn't feel that, but just light that was growing intolerably, as though it was burning out my mind, dissolving me until there was only the outline of my shadow left behind. Pain rushed in to fill the hollow, and then I could feel a blade, laying open my very self with surgical precision, dissecting me to look inside me. I knew I should hide, resist the probe, much stronger and more painful than anything I'd felt before. It was no use, though; the malevolent intelligence behind it was too powerful, skillfully stripping all my frail, new defenses and leaving me naked and terrified in front of it.

Whoever it was on the other end of that knife knew everything about me in short order, and laughed cruelly, mocking my little ambitions, my foolish emotions, my silly ideals. I whimpered, not being able to draw enough breath even to scream, struggling to push the intruding will away as the pain began to crush me. I could feel blood welling from my nose and ears as I heard shouts and the humming ignition of two lightsabres, and then blessed darkness as the pain receded to unconsciousness.

"Awakening, she is," said someone with a high, growly voice. I opened my eyes, feeling weak but alive... _it hurt too much, I couldn't be dead_. Every bone in my body seemed to be on fire, and some things that didn't have bones were pretty bad, too. There was light, I could tell that, but I could not focus, couldn't see when I opened my eyes. I knew somehow that there were kind faces looking down at me, one green and two human. I found that I couldn't speak to thank them, had almost forgotten how in some way, even though it was important that I tell them...

"Why, she shouldn't be," said another, lower voice, in mild surprise. "Amazing. She's quite obstinate." There seemed to be a trace of amusement in his tone.

I could hear the smile in Qui-Gon's voice, but there was sadness, too. "She's nothing if not stubborn, my Masters," he said. I reached for him, toward the sound of his voice, and felt his hand enclose my cold fingers and warm them.

"You're safe, Belinda," he said gently. "Hush, now. Let the Healers help you." He put a hand over my eyes and soothed me. "Sleep. We will take care of you." I heard Slan scolding and he very gingerly started to pat my cheek.

I slipped down to the darkness again. At least there it didn't hurt so much.

_But who will take care of you?_ I wondered.


	8. Chapter 8

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

_I could hear the question in my mind, in my dreams, over and over again. "Are you sure? Really sure, little one?"_

_Of course I'm sure, Qui-Gon, don't worry. I'm **definitely **sure... _

When I next awoke, the first thing I noticed was the awful taste in my mouth, sort of like I'd been marinated in dextrose and water that had been mixed with saline and rancid cheap Kool-Aid. Red. I also felt like I had my head in a bucket, though it was daylight – or at least I could see that there was some light in the room, and hear well. That was encouraging, really – it meant that my eyes had decided they were working, at least to perceive light.

I felt disoriented; I'd little idea of where I was, what had happened to me. I tried to stay calm as the memories began to sift back into my consciousness, falling silently like a light snow. There were things I did remember – I'd been hurt, and I was in the hospital… hoped it wasn't Crouse. But anything about the incident seemed to blend together in a haze of pain and confusion. When I reached out to it, tried to remember the events around it or leading up to it, my head started to hurt.

I opened my eyes, strictly as an experiment. I blinked a couple of times against the brightness and focused on a kind face that came into view, but there was definitely something wrong. He was blue. A _lovely_ shade of blue, but definitely not what I had in mind. He had a tail on his head. _Toto, I get the feeling we're not in Kansas anymore._ I was definitely not in Crouse, though. That was quite enough for now; I was downright dizzy trying to figure it out. I somehow knew it was vitally important to find what I'd forgotten and get it back, but I felt very weak and needed to rest. I closed my eyes again and floated for a while.

Finally, I drifted up to awareness, at least enough to have conscious thought. _Okay. Time to figure out what the hell is going on. Let's take inventory. My name is Belinda Kyle. I'm an EMT – at least I was, until – until the – shipwreck. That was it. But now – now I'm not much of anything, really. Where am I? Blue people aren't what I'm used to, certainly. What, have I stepped into the Twilight Zone? I am definitely in another place – maybe another **universe**, by all that's holy. _

_Okay. This is **not** Kansas, I was right. But what happened? Everything is so jumbled, I'm so confused, I have no idea what's going on now. I don't have pain, at least now, if I don't try to remember what happened to me, but I know that remembering is just what I need to do. So. I have no clue as to what's going on, except that I have to remember things, pronto. I have a bad feeling about this… Guess I'll just have to make it up as I go along. _ _Now, wasn't **that** helpful?_

"Hmm," came an oddly familiar high, growly voice. "To return, you have decided." I wondered why I recognized the voice, and I definitely could tell whose very warm and large hand took my own; I was still cold, it seemed. I sighed. _Can't fake being asleep anymore, I guess_. I opened my eyes and saw a blessedly familiar face, which was a much less surprising color. _Qui-Gon. His name is Qui-Gon, and he was teaching me…_

"Belinda, you're safe now," Qui-Gon said. He smiled at me. I recognized his deep, melodious voice, and knew the creature who was with him belonged here, too. But where the bloody hell was here? He was small, green, and instantly recognizable as alien, but real – down to the large, wobbly and expressive ears and an incredibly wise and gentle face. I only goggled a little bit; I was rather proud of myself.

"I – I kn-n-now," I said, stuttering. My voice was funny and flat, and it was as much effort as running a race to get recognizable words out, but I understood well enough. _Broca's aphasia,_ I noted absently. _A stroke?_ "Wh- wh- wh-at-t – ha – ha- hap – p-pened? Wh- wh- where --?"

"Don't try to speak," he replied. "There was some – damage. You've been in Bacta for many days. You are in the Healer's wing now." _He wasn't telling all the truth, but most of it. All of it that mattered, I guess. _I made a face at the taste in my mouth. _Bacta? Was that what the horrible taste was? What the hell was a Bacta when it was at home? _

"Yuck." That came out fluently enough. "Wh – wha – "

"Persistent you are, young one. Collapsed when your shields failed, you did. Apologies we owe you." The green creature looked very sad, and patted my hand with a small, green, very warm and alive one of his own. _Oh, my God. Hey, how do I rate the Grand Master here at my bedside? He's really important, whoever he is. Doesn't he have some kind of esoteric Master thing to do? And why lie to me, I know that's not what happened.  
_

"N-no, no- not – y-your – f-f-fault – " I shook my suddenly aching head, frustrated, and took a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. I just woke up, let's not start that again. Wait; there was something else I had to tell them. What was it? I was quickly becoming exhausted just trying to remember, and getting it out was torture, _but I had to tell them_. "S-s-ome – one – one – e-e-else h-h-hurt – m - me--"

The green fellow's ears twitched at that statement. "Someone else, you say? Know you who this is?" I grabbed onto a fact that swam up close. _Wait. Yoda. His name is Yoda. And now I know why he's here. He smelled a rat. Smart guy, but it makes sense. He's really old – and you don't live that long without some kind of brains._

I groped for a further memory, and had a stab of pain at the same time as I had a picture of an arrogant young man with jet-black hair and icy pale eyes. He was laughing at me – but it hadn't been him who'd hurt me this time. _Right. Xanatos, it wasn't him. I should know who it is, but I can't remember. What about the little boy?_ "N – no – not X-x-an – " I was shaking now with the effort of speech and of beating back the thick oily darkness surrounding my memory. "H-his -- mas -- " _It was hard enough to catch the details, how would I get them out?_ I again quieted myself to get my wayward brain to process and my mouth to form what I had to say. It hurt, and I could feel tears come to my eyes. _The little boy, Jax. What happened to him?_ "J – j – Jax – a-all – r-r-ight?"

"Jax is fine," Qui-Gon replied. He wiped a tear from my cheek. "Yes. I felt the attack as well, and it was not Xanatos. You must rest, little one." I raised my eyebrow; it wasn't often that anyone called me that. He smiled.

"B-b-but – "

"No buts, Belinda," he said. "You have overtaxed yourself. Speech will return to you as you heal. Now. Sleep." He put his hand over my forehead, damp with sweat from the effort of speaking, and I found myself dropping off again immediately. He wasn't taking no for an answer.

The blue man was back when I awoke.

"Hello," he said, when I looked up at him and struggled to sit. "I'm Master Bodreau, a Healer. I am blue, by the way. I am a Twi'lek. I understand that my appearance was a bit of a shock to you earlier. "

"No – not us-s-sed to it," I said. "S-s-s-or-rry." It was a little easier to produce what sounded like a decent utterance now, though my voice was still flat and hoarse. I offered a hand, and he took it, smiling. It was quite warm. _Higher body temperature? Just where the hell was I, anyway? Healers' wing? Where was that?_

"No offense taken, I assure you," he said. He had a very kind smile.

"P-p-p-leased."

"I've been your primary caregiver," he said. "You gave us something of a turn when you came in, until we found out what happened to you. We didn't have time to ask your permission for many things that were done."

"W-wh-wha-a-t?"

"For your treatment, placement in Bacta, and forming a Healing bond, to start." _There was more... didn't matter now._

"Th-th-ank – you. A-and?"

"You're most welcome. You were poisoned by the dart that struck you on the neck when you disembarked from the ship," he said. "The toxin was most – interesting." He chuckled at the look on my face. "It was known to one of our number, Master Dooku. It was most fortunate that he was able to tell us how it could be neutralized. It would have otherwise been quickly fatal."

I nodded. I was still surprised to be alive.

"But there was much damage otherwise as well, possibly from the mental attack you described. I understand from Master Jinn that you have some medical training." I nodded once more.

"T-tech," I said. Well, one word wasn't such a strain. Took a bit, though. "P – p – primi- mi – tive – "

"Indeed," he said. "Shockingly so, I'm sad to say. Your foot and ankle have no pins, nor does your shoulder. But the main damage you sustained in the attack was to the brain, the areas for expressive speech and areas that coordinate memory. It will take time and treatment for you to regain your speech and your full memory, and Master Yoda and Master Dooku are most insistent that you be able to tell your story as soon as possible. It will not be the most comfortable course of rehabilitation."

I shrugged. _And this is comfortable? Catheterized, diapered, and feeling like an infant because I can't even tell you what I need?_

He startled. "I take your point," he said. "I did not know that you were capable of mental speech."

I raised an eyebrow. _Neither did I, until Qui-Gon told me so_. It was a strain as well, but in a different way and not quite so much; at least I could get things across.

"Evidently the problem is between the speech center and the articulation control in your sort of human. Do you know where that is?"

At least I could recall my neuroanatomy text. Handy thing, a photographic memory – wish it were a bit more reliable now.

_Well, usually it's here, but it varies by individual._ I hesitantly sent him a picture of the left side temporal lobe, in Broca's area.

"Excellent. It's easier to localize from there. We can trace the brain activity and have you back to normal in a short time."

_The hard way, no doubt. Oh, well, it's me. I do everything like that._

He chuckled. "Then you know what to expect. We can deal with the rest as it comes. We will have a treatment shortly, I've found several healers to help."

"T-trea-ea-t-t-ment?" I was curious.

"You will see. We will explain before the procedure." He chuckled and shook his head. "Can't stop wanting to know. It's an honorable trait, but you must be patient, dear girl."

I snorted. "N-n-not –t m –m-me," I said, shaking my head.

"Master Jinn told me that, too. Relax, now, have something to eat." Of course, eating had its own attendant problems. I had little or no control over my hands at that point, and they required me to use them as part of assessment and rehabilitation. I managed to spill more than I ate that first time, choked several times because my swallowing was impeded by bad coordination and muscle tone, and was terribly frustrated by the end of the process. I couldn't even wash my own face; it took all my intestinal fortitude not to burst into tears at the helplessness I felt. But I began to remember many of the things Qui-Gon had taught me, surprisingly, and they proved useful then. With effort, I was able to calm myself and accept the situation as best I could – and even get more food into my mouth by concentrating.

"It is probable," Master Bodreau said gently, "that you will make a full recovery. I hope that will ease your pain."

I shrugged again. "M – m – my p – p – pro – b – blem. Th – th – thanks." "Rest now if you can, you are tired," he said. He put a warm hand on my forehead and I closed my eyes once more. _At least I could sleep without putting an eye out… and the mind trick sleep suggestion beat the hell out of sleeping pills. Maybe I could learn that, too. It'd be great for fussy toddlers._

After a short snooze, there was a physical rehabilitation session. I was gotten up on my feet, and stood waveringly. I was dizzy and it was a strain, but at least I could stand with some support. I felt very weak, most likely from the extended time in bed. I found out that I'd been in Bacta quite a long time, and I felt it. The therapists and Healers (Master Bodreau among them) also did some work on range of motion; I already had some tightness in some of my joints. It wasn't exactly comfortable. Aphasia is an odd thing. As endlessly frustrating and difficult as it was to produce a sensible utterance otherwise, embarrassingly enough, when my knees buckled and I fell I found that I could curse fluently and floridly and in the three languages I knew, and turned the air blue in seconds flat. Well, the articulators worked, anyway. Evidently bad language comes from a _different_ part of the brain.

Then I found that I could sing again. I'd always been able to sing a little, and get a tune out of most any musical instrument not equipped with a reed. But during the weeks I'd spent working in the horror of Ground Zero (which I only remembered spottily at best – a mercy if you ask me), I'd been exposed to some nasty fumes that had left me coughing constantly, my voice rasping and tuneless at best. Though the cough had finally resolved in my time on the island, my voice had still been a wreck to be polite. Now I found that I could sing some short phrases far easier than speaking them, much to the amusement of the assembled. Mine, too, for that matter, when I thought of it. The melody of my singing voice had returned, after a couple of false starts. I was told that it was the regeneration from Bacta, but I wasn't inclined look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course, the first phrase I thought of was "how could you use a poor maiden so", and that did amuse us all. It lightened up what was otherwise a very frustrating day. I'd done rehabilitation with other people on clinical rotations and as a tech in the hospital, but it was very different now. The shoe was on the other foot. _If I ever get to be a doctor, I hope I remember this._

Predictably, I didn't do helpless well. By the time the session was half over, I was in tears, both from the physical effort and the pain and frustration at the parts of my body that didn't even seem to be attached to me. I'd read about this, I'd seen it, but there it was. Now I understood much better the guy who tried to cut his leg off with a butter knife on the rehab wing during my rotation there.

When I awoke finally after the next nap, it was to another audience. I still felt rather tender headed, and looked around to see Master Bodreau and the healers from the day before smiling kindly on me. They were comforting people, and had a lovely treatment manner. I smiled back, and saw Qui-Gon and Master Yoda arriving over Master Bodreau's shoulder.

_Now I'm really confused. Why is he back? Something else is going on here._

"Indeed," Master Bodreau said quietly. "I'm wondering the same thing myself. Perhaps we can both find out the answer to that question." I nodded, and bowed my head politely as Master Yoda came up to me in his hoverchair.

"G-good m-mor – ning, M – mas – ter," I said. I figured anyone who was 800 years old deserved at least that much. _Hmm… things are coming back. Good start, I guess._ Slan swarmed off Qui-Gon's shoulder and snuggled up to my cheek. I scratched him behind the ears and smiled gratefully at Qui-Gon, who returned it, and took my hand.

/_Lyn is better?_ / Slan asked.

_Yes, buddy, now that you're here._ He giggled, and I smiled at him. And it was true; he cheered me considerably. I'd been afraid that he'd been hurt. He petted my cheek and snuggled, a warm comfort in what had seemed until then a very cold lonely place.

"Further treatment you require," Master Yoda said. "Certain must we be that other damage has not been done." I nodded, and Slan made a distressed noise.

"M-more d-dam-mage?" I asked.

"Yes. See we must if blocked your abilities and memories have been."

I raised an eyebrow. "B-blocked?" I asked. "H-how c-cou – ld – d y-you t-tell?"

Thank goodness, Master Bodreau took over. "Memories are almost impossible to erase, Belinda," he said. "They are stored in the human brain like holographs, in broad pathways. The resolution might be degraded but unless you brain is wiped of all information, the pathways are still there."

I nodded, that had been current research when I had been taken. "A – and?"

"We cannot read the memories, that will be up to you. But we might be able to rebuild and reintegrate the pathways between where they are stored and where they are processed. Normally this process can take months, but Master Yoda and Master Dooku feel very strongly that you must be aided in this; your memory is almost certain to contain some very important information. It is a difficult and sometimes very painful procedure. Are you willing to try?"

I sighed. I knew what the answer had to be. It was vitally important that I do this; I could literally almost hear the Force tell me so. But more pain? _Well, maybe it wouldn't last long._ I drew in a breath, gathered what courage I could summon, calmed myself, and nodded. "Y-yes." _I'm not going to like this._

Master Bodreau smiled sadly. "Most likely not," he agreed. "But we will do all we can for you to minimize the discomfort."

I nodded. "Wh – when?"

"Not immediately. You must eat, and prepare yourself, and so must we. Masters, will you stay? We would welcome your strength in the Living Force."

"More distraction from me Belinda does not need, but knows her well, Qui-Gon does."

"I would be glad to stay, if it's all right with you," Qui-Gon said to me.

I smiled up at him. "Th – thanks." He squeezed my hand and smiled. "You're being very brave," he said.

I made a face at him. _Please don't patronize me, Qui-Gon. I think I must be out of my mind._ I replied. He chuckled, and kissed my forehead.

"No," he said. "You're doing what you must do. Sometimes that seems much the same."

I rolled my eyes. _If you say so, Master._

This time, the physical rehab session was less painful but a little more work. After lunch (I'd missed breakfast) and the range-of-motion exercises, Qui-Gon suggested we go for a short walk. I was dressed decently enough, in a simple tunic and trousers. Light shoes were found for me and Qui-Gon took me down the hall, carefully matching my short clumsy stride, supporting me with an arm around my waist. I felt like a teenager with hormone problems. _Fine time to have my sex drive come back, I don't think._ I decided that the only thing I could do was to accept the inevitable and enjoy his warmth and help, and how the dark woody citrus scent in his toiletries blended with a very pleasant clean man smell. When I tired, too quickly, he settled me next to him on a bench in a private corner.

_Right. What's going on, Qui-Gon?_

"You are perceptive," he said. "Master Yoda believes you may still be under outside influence. I think not, but he doesn't know you."

_I expect we'll find out shortly_.

He chuckled. "Indeed. But he will return when you have your session with the Healers."

_I have no objections. If it's needed, so be it. I can't say if I'm – compromised or not, and you must know. I hardly recall the high points, and it's vital that we know what's going on here._

"You feel strongly about this." _Do you think that I like the idea of being a stooge for evil? I'd prefer to make my own decisions, thanks, or at least to know what's needed. The Force has always told me that, even when I didn't listen, or didn't know it was that talking._

He smiled. "You're learning."

_Like I always do, the hard way_. He chuckled once more, and put an arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. Slan came and sat on my shoulder and cuddled up, too.

"I understand that, little one," Qui-Gon said. "It has often been that way for me as well." His warmth made my pulse faster, and I wished in a corner of my heart that I were in a position to enjoy his affection a bit more, or even respond. But I leaned my head on his shoulder and lived in the moment, as he'd taught me. All things considered, it was the most pleasant one in recent memory. I was thankful for it, and for his support in this uncertain environment.

When we went back to the ward, we were brought to a calm, quiet treatment room. Master Yoda was indeed there, and so were Master Dooku and some Mental Healers that I didn't know. This time, they explained to me that I would be put into a suggestible state and regressed as far as my memory would allow. Since the brain connections had been disrupted, the question was how fast the memory pathways themselves could re-form. More regeneration of pathways would follow if it were needed.

We all meditated together for a bit, and I was given a medication to relax me more deeply, in the form of what seemed to be an herbal tea. I wasn't put to sleep, but I was very calm and was helped to open up by Qui-Gon and Master Bodreau, who had what he had called a "Healers bond" with me. In that state, Master Yoda and the other Jedi present examined me exhaustively. This was nothing like the examination Qui-Gon had performed the day after we met, nor did it resemble the ruthless vivisection performed on me by Xanatos or whomever it was who hurt me when we arrived on Coruscant. But a bright light flooded my being nonetheless; they took my measure by it in whatever method Jedi employed. The aim, however, was not to destroy, but to know. It was not a pleasant or comfortable experience, but at least I didn't feel like someone was trying to kill me. Quite. I didn't know how I'd done, but perhaps that was part of the plan.

There immediately followed another round of centering exercises and guided imagery. In essence, this was a hypnotic regression session, where we started with things I almost certainly remembered, such as what had happened since I'd awakened on Coruscant. They walked me backward through the illness, and they found the first brick wall around the time I was attacked. Master Shi'in, one of the mental healers who were helping, was convinced that this block was deliberately placed, and we began to work on it. I knew when they'd gotten a fingernail under the block, because suddenly I was reliving the pain and the attack; I thought I was dying. Maybe I was. Once more I was fighting with a black, evil being, who was putting suggestions, horrible things in my head that drew on all the shadows and the sins and darkness that everyone has deep in themselves. The suggestions were subtle and clever, the product of a far more sophisticated and powerful mind than mine. Then they were all there, helping me, Yoda, Qui-Gon, Dooku, Bodreau, fighting in the memory with me, lightsabres glowing bright in blue, green, yellow and cyan, banishing the dark spirit and the horror more thoroughly than all the vainglorious dreams of an exorcist. In my mind, I went and embraced Qui-Gon, and felt his relief that he had been able to help me now, his grief that I had suffered before. I just held him, thanked him for helping me.

When I awoke, I found to my deep embarrassment that I did in fact have Qui-Gon in something of a stranglehold. I blushed bright red and let him go, and I did my best to thank Master Bodreau, Master Dooku and Master Yoda as well. Master Yoda smiled at me; Master Dooku bowed and withdrew silently. I could not read his gaze as he left. Master Bodreau came to me as I shook my head to clear it and took my hand as he monitored my vital signs unobtrusively. I raised an eyebrow, not able to easily form words in the confusion. "Wh-wh-a-a-t –?"

"The first memory block has been found and broken," he said. "You have done well. There are other blocks in longer-term memory, and there are still places where pathways were physically severed. There will be a further regeneration procedure. It will not be easy, but we hope to speed your recovery considerably by this."

I sighed, and nodded. "G-g-go a-a-head." _Let's get it over with, then._

The regeneration procedure that followed made the first one seem like amateur night. Take every migraine imaginable and roll it into a ball and add to that overload from the minds of the Healers and others present, and you might get the magnitude of it. It was literally doing the work of years in minutes -- though brain tissue is not sensitive to pain, the surrounding areas are; the increased circulation and other processes had agonizing repercussions. If labor is anything like that, take the works out now; I don't want a thing to do with it. I couldn't do much about this, though, but be glad when it was over, and and I could sleep. Luckily, I didn't need heavy medication that time.

Qui-Gon was with me the next time I awoke. He smiled at me. "You're looking better," he said.

"I f-feel better, t-too. You?" Pronouns. That was quite an improvement, even discounting the ease of finding words themselves. I was encouraged – at least speech was coming back – but I still didn't know what we needed to know... "D-d-don't-t r-rem-member much-ch yet."

"I am well. I'm glad you woke – I must go within the hour, and finish my mission." He took my hands in his. "Be patient. You will heal soon, and remember. I will return as soon as I may."

"Th-thank you, Qui-Gon," I said. "B-be c-care-f-ful. Go get 'em." He chuckled, and kissed my forehead gently.

"I will. Farewell, may the Force be with you." That didn't just sound like an empty formulary from him, but a real blessing. I would take what I could get and give what I could.

"And y-you." I reached up and touched his face, following the high line of his cheekbone, the warm dark smoothness of his beard. He turned a bit to the caress, then strode out of the room purposefully. I hoped I didn't imagine the smile on his face. I sighed. I didn't know much more than I had before – but now I knew how urgent it was that I regain my memories. A heavy dread came over me that this wonderful man whom I loved so deeply was in danger, and to help him I had to remember. _I had to remember._ My head pounded with the frustration of it. I was close to tears.

"M-mas-s-ter," I said, to Master Bodreau, when he came in shortly thereafter. "I d-don-n't-t rem-member. Wh-what –t's wrong?"

"Nothing, Belinda," he said. "We must allow the regenerated areas in your brain to heal and stabilize. Treatments will continue. This is only the start. The rest will be less uncomfortable, but they will help you in reintegration."

Sure enough, over the next two weeks (five day weeks there), there followed daily treatments with one or even several Healers, where my brain was further re-educated to language and writing, and also re-accustomed to empathy and telepathy, and feeling and using the Force. They taught me Aurebesh as well, the fast way. Master Bodreau usually led those sessions. Luckily, none of them was nearly as difficult or painful as the first one, and I improved with each new treatment. These sessions were alternated with relentless physical therapy, range of motion, and fitness training, as much as I was willing or able to stand. Though I was constantly sore and tired, I finally had the sense of making some kind of progress. But it wasn't the progress that I needed to make; just being able to speak and move better wasn't enough. Just can't please me, I guessed. But one day they brought me back to the Mental Healers. The one who was in charge in that section was Master Shi'in, a woman of gentle demeanor. She was elderly, and not quite human, with deep bronze skin and pointed ears. She smiled on me kindly and gave me some biscuits and some herbal tea. I recalled the taste; it was similar to the mixture I'd been given for that first awful brain treatment. By that time I could speak well, but still slowly.

"Master Shi'in," I asked, "what will we be doing?"

"Attempting to reintegrate your memories," she said. She had a deep, rich, soft contralto, very calming. "The physical work is done, but you must be re-guided to the images and feelings. As such, this may be difficult for you."

_And they thought **I** had a gift for understatement._ "How will the memories come back?" I asked. _Hey, maybe I needed a whack upside the head after all._

She smiled. "It is most likely that older memories will return first. However, they may not return in ways that are strictly factual, or ways that you expect. It may take some time to determine the difference between reality and confabulation by your mind. There are meditation techniques that we can use to help you recall correctly. Why don't we start?"

It wasn't bad, mostly guided meditation and hypnotic regression, like the first treatment I'd had with them. I was transferred to the Mental Healers' area and given a room to myself, and that was a mercy as well. I knew I was being observed, but at least I had the illusion of privacy. It took several days before the memories started to come back. At first, they were nightmares. Screaming, horrible nightmares, consisting of a hash of The Twilight Zone, Star Trek, Star Wars, and old Hammer horror movies with a little Godzilla and a few vampires thrown in for seasoning, then over the next few nights becoming more specific, even if they were not quite right. My mind was confabulating, as Master Shi'in had warned. We had several meditation sessions during each day where we grounded me in reality and allowed me to see the difference between fact and what my mind was doing to fill in the blanks that remained.

When the sixth night came it was like the safecracker had finally gotten the right combination. They had given me another herbal tea formula that night, and I was pretty damn relaxed – you could have ladled me into a bucket. The stuff had a kick like a mule. I meditated as much as I could before succumbing to the wave of sleep that broke over me. Before I could understand what was happening, _I was on Naboo_. The gravity was slightly different, the air heavily scented with resinous growing things. It was a beautiful place where people respected their lands, their seas and air.

I could sense Qui-Gon as I did when we were together. It was an older and somehow sadder man that I could feel, and it saddened me as well. I knew he was tired and sore from the first confrontation with Maul, and nights with little sleep. He was saddened by the deaths of Naboo and Gungans under the grinding heel of the Trade Federation occupation. He admired the courage and steely resolution of the Queen, and was amused that she truly thought that she'd fooled him with her innocent ruse. _--Handmaiden, indeed._ -- He loved his apprentice's dry wit, honour, integrity, and sheer brute competence.

_Obi-Wan was truly ready for Knighthood – if only he'd stop twirling the bloody 'sabre…_ he quirked a half-smile. He hoped Anakin didn't do anything too outrageous, but knew it was idle dreaming. _That boy could get into trouble frozen in carbonite; he could feel it in his bones. Probably why he was already so fond of the child. By the Force, though, what was he thinking, taking another Padawan at his age? He shook his head a bit, with a faint smile at his foolishness. –Follow your own advice, old man. Live in this moment, where you should. This is the Sith, he demands your full attention._– He knew as the foul creature ignited both ends of a lightstaff that he would be slaughtered like an animal if he wavered even a millimeter, and Obi-Wan as well. One of them at least must live. The Council must know.

"We'll handle this," he said, as they faced the horned being in the entrance to the reactor. The Queen looked over at him and nodded, and her contingent left them to the creature in the door. And then the deadly chase began, and I could see every snarling look from the creature of the shadow, cadaverously alien face tattooed, stained the colors of blood and ash like the mark of Cain. His skill was remarkable, and the real duel – which I sensed I was seeing, perhaps with the Force's intervention – was even more spectacular than the movie recreation I now remembered. I could taste the acrid reactor coolant in the air, smell the ozone from the 'sabre blades, from the radiation. It only reinforced the deadly atmosphere of the place.

Qui-Gon was grounded, in fluid motion as the Sith was air and flame, peace and serenity battling rage and fury. Darth Maul retreated behind the wall of the force field, and Qui-Gon once more knelt and centered himself, and then was granted the moment and grace he needed to make peace with the fate he now saw. I tried to shout, tried to tell him to wait for Obi-Wan, but I wasn't really there. It didn't take long for Maul to speed faster than Qui-Gon's tiring muscles and stun him with the butt of the lightstaff, and run him through. I felt it, and felt his surprise that it hadn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would…

It was just wrong. I'd always thought so, but now I knew in my heart that it was. My shriek echoed Obi-Wan's despairing cry, and I woke in a cold sweat – but now, instead of screaming, I was weeping, gasping for breath, sobbing broken-heartedly. This was the memory that they wanted, all right. It wasn't just a story; it was a possible future, and I could tell it was among the _worst_ ones possible. If the timeline followed these events, billions of people would die in the Clone wars, at least one planet would be destroyed, not to mention the whole Jedi Order. This was what I could give them. There was no way I could allow this history to even start. No way I could _not_ tell someone about it. But whom? How? I swallowed my tears and calmed myself as much as I could, and settled myself into meditation. No hope of sleeping now; I had to figure out what the message was, the thing the Force was trying to tell me, without anyone looking over my mental shoulder. I knew there were other parts of the memory that I needed to have clear in my mind – who was Darth Maul? Who was the cloaked figure standing before him, ordering him to kill the Jedi?

"Wipe them all out," an eerily familiar voice said. I could see part of his face beneath the dark shadow of his hood; I could hear his voice, but I could not remember his name. I didn't know what else to do but to try and sort out the mass of memories that seemed jumbled in my mind, but it was hard not to compulsively rerun the scene that left Qui-Gon dead on the cold empty reactor floor. He was a younger man now, not a bit of gray in hair or beard, without an apprentice, if you didn't count the stray he'd picked up (namely, me). Even though this would happen twenty years or more in the future, still I was transfixed with grief to see this sacrifice he made from love, from what he felt was his duty. Was it then his fate? Should I interfere with the future? I sighed and just decided to ask the question. Any other time I'd simply asked before, I had received an answer – even if I wasn't quite up to handling it, the answer had come. I certainly didn't have the answer myself, and couldn't even comprehend the wisdom necessary.

By now there wasn't much left of the night, but finally I was able to be quiet, to listen enough to hear the voice of right tell me what I needed to do, and pray that it wasn't the foul whisperings of the nascent Sith Lord. But I doubted even he had the power to make me feel like a person with wisdom, and he'd never give me the option to refuse. Surely I would be compelled to do this if it was his will. If I was brought here for any reason, it must be this – to make sure that this horrible thing would not happen to this flawed but decent Order, these wonderful people with their unique weaknesses and peccadilloes. As the day broke, I finally lay down and slept once more. It was a relief. I was rewarded with much more pleasant dreams. It wouldn't be easy, but I didn't ask for easy, just a chance.


	9. Chapter 9

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

When I awoke midmorning, I was calm at last. At least I knew what had to be done, that was far easier than being in limbo. I showered and dressed quite carefully, trying to be as neat as possible, pulling my hair away from my face; not in my usual ponytail but in a bun to look a bit more mature. It was chilly that day, and so I put on the green robe I'd been issued. I went to Master Bodreau, who was still in charge of my case.

"Master, I have a request. May I speak with Master Yoda? I feel I must discuss some of my memories with him. How would I contact him?"

He smiled. "I'm glad that you have recovered memory, Belinda. Master Yoda anticipated your request, and has told me to contact him if you request to see him."

"I know he must be very busy, but I feel that it is very important that I speak with him. I hope he won't feel I'm presumptuous."

"Hardly," he said. "He has been insisting that your memories are important, as has Master Dooku. They've been monitoring your progress with great interest."

_Great. Master Dooku is **not** who I want to talk to right now. I don't know if he's a Sith yet or not, or falling toward darkness… let's not take that chance, shall we?_

"I'm flattered," I said, coloring.

"You may not be after speaking with him," he replied, with a slight smile. "We will contact him now." He took me to his desk and pressed a switch on what I gathered was a communication panel. "Master Yoda," he said, "Belinda has asked to speak with you. Are you available to see her?"

The now-familiar voice came back over the speaker. "Felt the disturbance this morning, I did."

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," I said, distressed.

"Disturb me you did not," he said. "Expecting this I have been. This visit I will welcome, Belinda. Come, speak we will."

So I was escorted to Master Yoda's quarters. They were on one of the higher levels, on the tower with the Council Chamber. Not surprising. It was a pleasant walk, through a lovely garden on the bottom level. Little birds sang and small squirrel-like critters ran through trees with yellow-green leaves. It smelled resinous and exotically peaceful. I had been a bit nervous, but I was calmed. There were children in the garden, and I saw them being typical 5 or 6 year olds, yelling, chasing each other and playing tag through the garden. A small boy with a shock of fiery ginger hair hurtled headlong into me, bowling me over.

"Oh," he said, flustered. "I'm really sorry. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Are you? You seem to be having a lot of fun, there. Sorry to interrupt."

"I'm all right. I – um – should have been watching where I was going," he said, looking at his feet and kicking the dust like any other embarrassed little boy. He glanced up again and I was held in the gaze of huge eyes, smoky steel blue. Even at this age, still blurred and indistinct, I could see the beginnings of strong, handsome features; bold, high cheekbones and firm jaw shadowed in the elfin delicacy of his face. He looked me over carefully, smiling a bit but a little suspicious, too. _Couldn't blame him there, I'm sure he doesn't meet many new adults. _ "I don't know you, what's your name?"

"I'm Belinda Kyle," I said. "May I ask yours?" I held my breath, because I'd figured out who he must be. The hair and eyes were unmistakable.

"I'm Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Tiger clan."

"Well, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi," I said, offering my hand, "I'm glad to – erm – run into you."

He shook mine, and giggled. "Are you sure you're okay, Miss Kyle?" he asked, sincerely a bit worried.

"I'm sure," I said. "And I'm sure I'm glad to meet you, too. You're right, though. It's a good idea to watch where you're going. By the way, my friends call me Lyn. I have to go." He smiled, a real thousand-watt opus. He was adorable; I was hopelessly lost.

"May the Force be with you!" he said. "And you, too," I replied, not being able to resist smiling back. I dusted myself off and he ran away, yelling something about Bant being "it". I chuckled.

"Are you all right?" Master Bodreau asked.

"Yes, Master. I bounced. Thanks for taking me through here, it's wonderful."

"You like children," he said. "I do," I said.

"It may speak to my relative immaturity."

He smiled. "Most likely not. The lift is on the right." We spent an amazingly short time on the lift, considering how high up we were when we got off. I did my best not shriek and clutch at the railing when I looked out to see light streaming in through windows made of transparisteel, at least a kilometer in the air. It was amazing just to see the air traffic going by. The movies' visuals were incredibly close to the reality, which made me even more nervous for a number of reasons.

Master Bodreau was serene as he guided me down the corridor to Master Yoda's quarters. They were built for him, low and dimly lit. I couldn't quite stand erect, but he welcomed me in and smiled at Slan. I bowed. The air was heavy with the heat and humidity of his preferred environment, but I was still chilled to the bone from the night's horrors. I could smell growing things, and something mossy and earthy.

"Thank you for seeing me, Master Yoda," I said.

"Suffered much and worked hard you have," he said, indicating that I should sit.

I shrugged. "I had to do the work anyway, and maybe even the suffering. You may not think you should thank me after I've told you my tale, Master, but I'll do my best," I replied, taking the cup of tea he offered.

"This we already know, young one," he said. He settled himself on a comfortable chair, obviously ready to listen. I calmed myself as best I could. "Well, to begin with, Master, I came here from another place, possibly even another universe. It hardly matters. But where I come from, this place – this Republic, the Jedi Order – are part of a story. Fiction."

"This much Qui-Gon has told us," he replied, "but to tell him this story you had refused."

"It's because it concerns him closely, Master, and I've always had a strong feeling that it would be wrong to tell him. It's a long story, and spans many years. And maybe – maybe it isn't the right one, or maybe it's just a story with some familiar characters. The only person I've felt like I should tell is you, though – maybe because you're a wise being with much experience, and you have the correct perspective for such things, or maybe I was just listening. I'd decided to tell only you before I was hurt, and now I feel it's more important than ever that you know. I'll start from the beginning. This story starts about twenty years from now. The Jedi Council have sent Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, to Naboo to investigate a blockade by the Trade Federation…"

Master Yoda raised an ear. "Obi-Wan Kenobi?" he asked. "Yes, Master. I just met him; he's a sweet child. Is he five or six?"

"Almost six he is, Belinda," he said. "And thought I have that Qui-Gon's next apprentice he should be."

"You start early, Master," I said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Obvious the match is. Balance each other they will. Continue, you should," he said.

Continue indeed. I spilled my guts, from the beginning of The Phantom Menace to the end of Return of the Jedi. He asked few questions, but just listened, as Qui-Gon did; I was the focus of his very profound attention. In my meditation early that morning I had made sure that I had the salient parts straight, and as I spoke sometimes he closed his eyes in pain. It _was_ painful, in many places. When the Sith first appeared, when it killed Qui-Gon, when Anakin's mother died, when it was discovered that Master Dooku had fallen to the Sith, when Luke made his mistakes, when Anakin died as well – many things seemed to sadden him. I did my best to keep my feelings out of the narrative. I'd been very attached to Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan. I'd grown up with Luke, Han, Leia, and the rest of them. As a service brat I'd formed deeper relationships with them than with some friends.

I just told the story – and it was often a sad one. When I was done, I drank the rest of my tea and he sat quietly in what seemed to be meditation. I decided it wouldn't be a bad thing to join him, and calmed myself and stayed as still as I could be after rather daunting task of telling the story of a great tragedy to one of its many tragic heroes. Although I knew now that I had done the right thing, he seemed to be frail and tired when I opened my eyes. I suppose it's hard to hear your own mistakes from the mouth of an outsider, especially when you're supposed to be the place where the buck stops. Finally, he seemed to come back from wherever it was he had gone. Color came back to his face, he breathed deeply and moved his limbs stiffly, as though cold.

"Can I get you something, Master?" I asked. "Are you all right?"

"Worry about me you should not, young one," he said. "Right you were to come to me with this, and not Master Dooku." He shook his head, sadly. "Foolish you must think the Jedi."

"Hardly, Master," I said. "I've never seen so many wise people in one place. I just thought that you must know this story, to guard against the horrible things in it. I don't know if any of this could happen, I don't understand enough about this place. But – if there's any possibility – I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't tell someone."

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "Heed this, I must. Understand, I do, why the Sith wished to kill you when your knowledge he found."

I nodded. "Especially if he is to be the Chancellor."

"Always in motion the future is, Belinda," he said. "Even more vigilant must we be now."

"Of course, Master Yoda. But I've always felt that a word to the wise is sufficient. Now. May I make you some tea? You look, if I'm not too presumptuous, like you could use some."

He chuckled; it was actually a merry sound. "Indeed," he said. "Yes, make tea you may."

I rose and managed not to hit my head on the ceiling by stooping a bit, and found the tea and made it to his directions easily enough. I also made him a sandwich with some flatbread, nut butter, and jam, and myself, too.

"Eat, you must," he said. "No extra reserves do you have now, Belinda."

"Why – I've always been quite well-padded, Master Yoda," I said. "No doubt it's decreased somewhat, but –"

"No, Belinda, no longer true that is," he replied. "In a mirror you have not seen yourself? See yourself, you must," and he led me to a mirror in a corner of his sitting room. I was astounded. Far from being the zaftig creature I'd been since I was a child, I was actually a bit thin. The way I was eating, I expected that would pass, but it was still a shock.

"Good heavens. Well, Master, there aren't any full-length mirrors in the Healer's wing that I recall," I replied. "I had a hard time finding a hand glass to put my hair up, truth be told. Do the Jedi have a problem with mirrors?"

He smiled. "No," he said. "But frowned upon vanity is, certainly."

"Ah. I see," I said. "That answers several questions I had when was with Qui-Gon on the island. 'My appearance is of no consequence' indeed. Master Yoda, some of us are human…"

He cackled. "Yes, reported to us that conversation, he did. Most amusing it was."

I snorted. "Yes, I can imagine it might have been. We all have our blind spots, I think. I certainly do, why shouldn't anyone else?"

"Much in these past weeks you have learned," he said. "I suppose, Master Yoda. I think I'd have passed on the experience, given the opportunity, though."

"Truly?" He asked, curiously. "That's not something I can change, so it's pointless to waste much energy on the speculation. But if I had to come here, I'm glad to have met you, all of you here. I definitely would have passed on Xanatos and the one who calls himself Darth Sidious, but that may well be why I'm here to begin with. I don't know, Master." I shrugged. I was finally warm, after being cold all morning, in the warm, humid air in Master Yoda's quarters. Even a bit too warm, now, but it was better than being so chilled that my teeth almost chattered. "To hear your story the Council wishes," he said, as I cleared away the sandwich things.

"The Council?" I asked. _Come on, Kyle, you knew this was coming_. "I expect so. What will they want to know?"

"To hear your version of events on the island they will wish," he said. "Tell them of this story you must not."

"Thank goodness," I replied. "I got that feeling, too, very strongly."

"Correct it is, Belinda," he said. "This afternoon the Council convenes. Tell your story then you may."

I sighed. There was nothing to do about it. "As you will, Master. I'm sure Qui-Gon's report was far more complete."

"For you it could not be, young one."

He had a point there. "Of course," I replied.

"Come," he said. "Have lunch with me, you shall."

He stood and climbed onto his hoverchair, and we went to the dining hall for lunch. Slan stayed in Master Yoda's quarters – after Master Yoda assured me that he wouldn't be any trouble. The Jedi Council chamber was quiet and serene, the floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the bright sunshine. A few of the members of the High Council were actually somewhat familiar to me from the movies – Master Yoda, of course; Master Poof, the spindly, tall, alien-looking Jedi; Ki-Adi Mundi, the Cerean, who served as advisor at this point; Master Piell; Master Yaddle, of the same species as Master Yoda; and Master Rancisis; all of them were very distinguished. I was introduced to them, and bowed to each in turn as I'd been taught.I was fascinated by the different species and the aura of calm and dignity in the room. One of those times where being a xenophile is a good thing.

The head of the Council welcomed me; he was a Wookiee I did not recognize named Tuvoka, who spoke with a voder. He was an elderly fellow, I assumed – at least he had white hair on his face and his head was peppered with it all over. He had an aura of great wisdom and good humor. A chair was provided for me and I was made to feel welcome and at home, and encouraged to tell my story as I chose, with only a few questions to clarify points I hadn't made clear. Neither my conduct nor Qui-Gon's was ever questioned; they were quite accepting of the narrative as it stood. I supposed they could tell if I were lying, so I didn't concern myself much with it at first. As we came down to the end of it, things were most pleasant, and I was getting a bit suspicious. _It doesn't pay to be paranoid, Kyle…_

The Council adjourned for a brief break – I always wondered what they did when they needed to go to the bathroom – and I took advantage of the pause myself to find the 'fresher and get a drink of water. Good thing. When the chime called us back to the chamber, I stood before them and underwent the standard psi testing, their version of the Rhine cards. It seemed way too easy, and I wondered what was going on. Then Master Tuvoka looked up after the testing was done, and smiled at me. Having a Wookiee smile at one is quite an interesting experience. This was no "cowardly lion", but a brave, kind, wise being. I suddenly wanted to know him better. I smiled back.

"Master Dooku has expressed a wish to question you in front of the Council," said the pleasant tones of the voder. "Are you willing to speak with him?"

I had a sudden stab of apprehension, but what could I do? If he was already a Sith, then I was sunk. If he wasn't – well, maybe he had legitimate questions to ask. Either way, I supposed, I was safest here – and I did not think that he was the one who had flayed my soul from me those horrible weeks before._ And why would he have come forward with knowledge of the toxin that almost took my life if he'd been in on the plan to kill me? That didn't make sense._ I took a deep breath.

"Masters, I've nothing more to say, but he's welcome to ask whatever he wishes," I said. "I've never had the chance to thank him for his help, that saved my life."

"Very well," he said, calmly.

Master Dooku came in, impeccable in Jedi robes and a black cloak that fell to his ankles in a ring of darkness around him. His hair fell in a similar dark thick mantle over his shoulders, peppered with steel gray at the temples and forehead. He wore a neatly trimmed beard, also with a few strands of gray. He was another tall, striking man, nearly as tall as Qui-Gon but more slender in build, elegant and strong, catlike and graceful. There was something dangerous about him, something hard, even brittle; a rawness and regret. His eyes, so dark as to be nearly black, held me in an intense gaze.

"Good day, Masters," he said, bowing to the Council. "Miss Kyle."

"Miss Kyle has consented to have you question her, Master Dooku," Master Tuvoka said. "Though her account satisfies the Council, we know you have other enquiries you wish to make. You may proceed."

"Thank you, Master," he said. "Miss Kyle."

"Master Dooku, I've never had the opportunity to thank you for your knowledge and quick action. They saved my life," I said.

"The knowledge was fortunate," he replied, evenly. "The action was my duty." I was shocked. I'd never seen such arrogant humility in my life. I caught a slight movement of Master Yoda's ear in the corner of my eye, but no one else gave any indication of emotion, but watched calmly. _I'm not going to like this._

"Nevertheless, Master, I am grateful indeed. I doubt I can tell you anything that Master Jinn has not, but I'll gladly answer any questions you may have."

And so the Inquisition began. He went back to the beginning, asking me about my life before the cruise, about my home and family. I recounted the events of the storm, of whatever happened to me to bring me from there to here. He questioned me closely about Slan and the headaches I had for the first week or two on the island, and about Qui-Gon's arrival and my first encounter with the Force. I began to sense some intimations of unseemly conduct, and ignored them.

"And you had never known you could feel the Force before you tried it then?" he asked.

"I had not a clue, Master Dooku. In my world, being able to feel the Force is a fairy tale, a legend. Though the Force may be real there, very few can use it."

"And why did you decide you could try to help him with the Force?"

"Because he was – I was afraid he was dying," I said. "He had lost a lot of blood, he was hypothermic, he was in shock. I hadn't seen another person for over a month, Master Dooku, and I didn't want him to die. There was no rational or logical reason for my feelings, but I had no rational or logical reason to be alive, or to be there. I had to go on what information I had, whether it made sense or not. I had to try anything I could think of, even grasp at straws and follow vague hunches, since nothing else I'd done had helped."

He wasn't getting what he wanted, so he came out with it directly. "And did you find Master Jinn attractive?" he asked, finally.

"I _found_ Master Jinn to be faint and weak from loss of blood, burns, dehydration, and possibly even radiation sickness," I said. "Or more precisely, he found me; I thought no one could have survived the landing of his life pod. I also found him to be a lot bigger than I am, and difficult to carry. I _do_ find him most attractive, as a matter of fact, but just then it was dark, and he needed my help. I knew I had to help him, even if I didn't know why or even how. That action was _my_ duty, Master Dooku. I swore that long before I met him." I repeated the Hippocratic Oath to him. "Though not all physicians on my world take this oath, and I am not a physician, I have sworn it to myself."

He nodded curtly with a raised eyebrow for the impertinence, and took a different tack. He now asked me how Qui-Gon had trained me, leading to my next encounters with the Force – including and especially my brush with the Dark Side.

"And you had no idea how to defend yourself?" he asked.

"I'd never been in quite such a situation," I said. "I suppose I've led a fairly sheltered life, otherwise."

"And he didn't test you or start training you in self-defense?"

"We were still working on getting my shields strong enough so I didn't have to be inside his," I replied. "I'd just gotten to that point. I shall always grieve what I did then, but I can't undo it. I just have to remember, for the rest of my life."

"You were afraid," he said, in a silkily persuasive tone, trying to get a fingernail under my defenses. "Who will mourn for a nameless criminal?"

"I will. Perhaps his family will. He had a name, Master Dooku; it was Teek. And yes, I was terrified, in fear of my life, and I acted to defend myself. I only hope that I can learn enough to prevent me from doing anything like that again, and I pray that I remember exactly what the Dark Side is and where it comes from. It's most likely old hat to all of you, but it was a difficult thing to lose my illusions about myself. Without Master Jinn, I don't know what would have happened to me."

I don't think that was the answer he wanted to hear. I began to detect the shadow of a pressure in my mind, more benign but not entirely unlike the one I'd felt when Xanatos had committed the latest fashion in mental rape. I looked directly into his eyes and raised shields I'd thickened to walls in the time since I had started my retraining. That kind of pain is a very effective motivation. He withdrew quickly.

"And how did he help you?" he asked. There were those intimations again, just the shade of a smarmy tone to his question. I counted to ten in three languages. _No use getting angry, he might have a reason for asking._

"By showing me the way out, showing me how to defend myself and how to stay calm in the face of fear. He helped me get over myself. Finally, he made me face my fear and know that I could control myself. That was the important thing, and it made me able to face myself and what I had done and go on."

He nodded. I sensed that he was looking for something that either wasn't there or wasn't what he thought. Now he tried a different tactic. He enquired about my further training, and then started playing hardball, questioning Qui-Gon's conduct at every turn. Had he been free with touch, had we, he finally asked, ever been intimate? I was amazed. He had been Qui-Gon's master, and he certainly knew him better than to think that he'd violate such a strict rule… unless he was trying to prove something. Something else._ How could he do this? Qui-Gon looked upon him as a trusted mentor, almost a father. Did he treat Qui-Gon to this kind of disrespect, right when he needed someone to talk to? _

That was it. I let him have it. I spoke in a soft, even tone. If anyone who knew me had been there, even Qui-Gon, they would have known that I'd been pushed too far, but that was irrelevant. I was able to hold on to my temper, but I had to let him know that he'd stepped _way_ over the line. His Master or no, he had no right to smear Qui-Gon's name. Mine – I had no name, and it didn't matter to me.

"Master Dooku, in all the time_ Master Jinn _and I were together, _his_ behavior was beyond reproach. Though he had to touch me in order to teach me and to help me when I needed it, I never felt the slightest bit uncomfortable or intimidated by him except for the one time when he meant to show me that I could be trusted. _Of course_ we were intimate. He slept in the same shelter as I did, he shared what I had, and in return for any of the small things I might have given him, he gave me incredible gifts with an openhearted generosity that constantly amazed me. He made it possible for me to survive, both spiritually and physically,under nearly impossible circumstances." I took a moment and calmed myself again. _There was no way that I was going to allow him to manipulate me that way._ "Ask what you mean, Master Dooku. Point blank. Don't dance around the subject. I'm perfectly willing to give you an honest answer if you're willing to hear it."

"Very well," he said. "Were you lovers? Did you have sexual relations with him?"

"No. We were not lovers; we did not have sexual intercourse. _Master Jinn _treated me with great respect and kindness at every turn; in every situation he was a perfect gentleman and treated me _always _as a lady, even when I wished it to be different – which, a few times, I will admit that I did. Qui-Gon Jinn saved my soul and sanity, and was as good a friend and teacher as I can imagine. Since you were his Master, I can only _assume _that he learned such courtesy, gallantry and honour from you. In your place, _I_ would be very proud of him."

Anger flashed in Master Dooku's eyes at my reproof, even tempered as it was with all the subtlety I could manage.

"Of Qui-Gon Jinn we are truly proud," Master Yoda said, after a short silence. "Go, my Padawan. Meditate upon Belinda's answers, you must. Lessons for you they have. The answers you seek within you lie."

I just shut my mouth, to avoid catching flies. _Had I really seen what I thought I had? Was that a rather curt chastisement and dismissal of a Jedi Master, a man old enough to be my father, as though he was a child? Well, even at his age (which I could hardly guess, but I roughly estimated as between 50 and 60) he was a baby to Master Yoda._ As I was, as we all were perhaps save Master Yaddle. I watched dumbfounded as Dooku took the admonishment silently, only blanching a bit more as he gathered his brittle dignity about him once more with his cloak, and bowed, dismissed from the Council where he felt he deserved a seat. I could sense the crushed and keelhauled ego and suddenly was grieved for a man who seemed to be bleak and empty inside, not really deserving the upbraiding and bruising that his pride had endured. I wasn't happy about being part of the setup.

"I shall, my Master. Farewell." He slipped from chamber silently.

Holy Hannah. I was exhausted, shaking from the effort of just speaking for so long, not to mention how difficult it was to stay calm in the face of Dooku's increasingly arrogant and insulting questioning. Master Yoda looked at me, concerned.

"Come with me you must, child. Overtaxed yourself, you have. Eat, you must, and rest, or sicken you will." I bowed, nodding, somewhat dazed. He led me down the corridor silently on his hoverchair, and motioned me to sit when we got to his quarters. Slan galloped over to the table and came and snuggled up to my cheek, making little sounds of distress. I stroked him gently, trying to reassure him that I was all right. I wasn't very convincing, even to myself. I was cold again, and the warm, steamy atmosphere felt good as I huddled into my robe. Master Yoda ladled me out a bowl of stew, gave me a piece of flatbread to go with it, and got himself some as well. We ate silently and it took me a few moments to stop shaking and feel human enough to put words together.

"Thank you, Master. I'm sorry – I seem to need a babysitter these days, and you're far too busy."

"Hmmf," he grumbled. "Not necessary are your apologies, Belinda. Still recovering you are, and very stressful was this day. Presumptuous was my Padawan," he said, sadly. "Harsh and bitter he is. Apologies we owe to you."

"He certainly seemed to feel strongly about something, Master Yoda," I replied. "It's not your fault. You're certainly wise, but not omniscient."

"Blames Qui-Gon, Dooku does, for Xanatos' fall. Unwilling he is to consider his role in the tragedy, or accept the truth, that the boy too damaged was to be a Jedi."

"And Master Dooku isn't the sort to doubt himself overmuch, is he?"

He chuckled. "Indeed not, young one. A good trait in a Jedi in the field, but in training a Padawan not so good it is."

"Especially one like Xanatos, who can find a weakness and exploit it in less time than it takes to tell. He had me fooled, certainly."

"Fooled all of us, he did," he said.

"Maybe even himself, too," I replied. "Xanatos seemed like a lost soul. If he hadn't been so very cruel and hard, it would have been sad. It was – difficult to see how much his fall and his conduct on Telos hurt Qui-Gon and Master Dooku. Even so, they always remember that lost little child. If I can ever forgive Xanatos, it will be because of what Qui-Gon told me."

"Hurt you both badly, Xanatos did."

"Yes, Master, but he taught me much more. With help, I have been able to learn those lessons. I expect they are never easy ones. But it's really ridiculous, Master," I said. "Qui-Gon is the finest teacher I can imagine. The choices Xanatos made were his own."

"Indeed, they were," he replied. "Blames himself as well, Qui-Gon does."

"Maybe not so much, now," I said. "At least I hope not."

There was a short silence. "Love him, you do," Master Yoda said gently. I looked up. He knew that.

"I'd think that would be fairly obvious," I said.

"Obvious it is not," he said. "But plain it is." I raised an eyebrow at the distinction. _Well, at least I'm not overtly wearing my heart on my sleeve…_ "I hope I don't cause any trouble for him," I said. "That's the last thing I want. I can't be the first woman who's fallen in love with a Jedi who saved her life – even not the first one who's fallen in love with Qui-Gon. Surely I won't be the last. I have to admit that it's like loving a force of Nature or something. I know that he can't belong to me, Master; he belongs to the Force, to the Galaxy. I can't take him from the path he has chosen, and I wouldn't even if I could. How could I truly care for him and wish other for him? If that makes me noble or unselfish or anything like that – well, don't tell anybody."

He chuckled. "Safe with me your secret is," he said. "Only that trouble he takes upon himself will you cause him, young one. Forbidden to the Jedi obsession, possessiveness is. Affection is not, nor friendship."

"I'm the fortunate one, and so is the Galaxy. I'd hate to have to give him up entirely; he's a wonderful friend." I guessed I'd have to take what I could get. It was certainly better than nothing. Master Yoda pressed another bowl of stew on me, and I found that I was in fact still hungry. I tidied away the dishes when we were finished, and sat with a cup of tea when he motioned me to do so.

"A complicated business for humans, mating is," he said, after a bit.

I snorted, startled. "Well, I sure haven't got it figured out, Master," I replied. "I have a hard time disconnecting my heart from my other parts. It's a common female failing."

"Why a failing do you consider it?" he asked.

"Just a joke. I'm considered old-fashioned where I come from. I can't imagine what folks might think of me here, I haven't a clue about what the culture is. I'll most likely ignore it anyway, but it would be good to know."

"Important the fashion is not," he said. "The right way your heart tells you. This you know already."

I nodded. "Yes, but it takes some really skilled listening, I think, Master. My record with relationships hasn't been too good." "Young you are, Belinda." "Yes, I know," I said. "But my mother had two children by the time she was my age, Master. I don't know how I'd do that."

"Then fortunate it is that children you do not yet have," he replied. I couldn't argue that logic.

"Master," I asked, remembering the conversation with Xanatos on the island, "what will become of me?"

"Depends on what you wish, that does," he said.

"That's the first time anyone has said that my wishes have anything to do with it."

He chuckled. "True that may be," he said. "Strong in the Force you are, shown ability you have. In your life before, a Healer you were."

"Well – an emergency technician. I wished to become a doctor."

"Spoken for you one of the Healers has," he said. "An apprentice you may be if desire it you do."

"Aren't I a bit old for that, Master?"

"Often, later in life Healers to the Temple come," he said. "Not the eldest you are. Hard work it would be, however."

"I'm not afraid of work. What I am afraid of is – not being able to make my way. Being useless, dependent, a curiosity."

"A pet? Even now, Xanatos deceives you," he said. "Capable you are, this you must remember."

"Well, shame on me," I said. "How would this work, Master? As I understand it, I have established a – training bond, is it called? – with Qui-Gon."

"Broken your training bond with Qui-Gon must be," he said. "When decided your Master is, take you as a Padawan in front of the Council he or she will. Meet with him, you must. Both of you and the Council the decision will make."

"Ah. I am honored, Master. And then?"

He chuckled. "Studying you already are," he pointed out.

"It keeps me out of trouble – I hope. Though I would like a break from the monotony of bookwork. Is there anything in the Temple I can do? Run errands, baby-sit, wash glassware, whathaveyou? I'd like to be useful."

"Work there is always," he said, smiling. "Much evaluation and training must you have, Belinda. Many tasks you must undertake. Patience must you have."

"Not my long suit, Master Yoda, as you saw with Master Dooku." I was beginning to feel upon even short reflection that I hadn't treated him with the respect he deserved, regardless of how he'd insulted and baited me. He'd been rude, arrogant, and difficult, but did this come from his suffering? That's how it usually worked, in my limited experience.

"Far more patience than he deserved you gave him, Belinda."

"Perhaps. He seems to be a good man, under all that bitterness." After losing Xanatos, I was sure it would be close to unbearable for Qui-Gon to lose his Master as well, even if it was his choice. How could I help that? He seemed so isolated from the rest, even in the Council chamber. I could sense that he was an important piece of the puzzle, that his turning would be a great blow to the Jedi. I also could sense that he wasn't of the Dark yet, even on this small amount of reflection. But he certainly could be heading that way. Master Yoda sighed, obviously sad for his wayward Padawan. I'm sure he was thinking of a small child with dark hair and eyes. I wondered absently what Master Dooku had looked like as a child.

"His alone is that decision, young one, as for all it is. Help him we may, but he only his way can choose." I nodded.

"Of course, Master. But he seems so alone…"

"Alone, he is often," he said, as though thinking out loud. I remember once my grandmother saying that she talked to herself because she was the smartest one around, this must be similar. "In blaming Qui-Gon, harms himself he does. No one there is left in the Order he trusts." His ears sank, and he looked discouraged. "Tragic this news is, of him falling to the Sith – but not surprising. His destiny it is, perhaps. Too much he cared for Xanatos. Meditate upon it, seek guidance, I will."

I nodded. When all else fails... I decided to quit while I was ahead.

"It's late, Master, and I'm sure you have much to do – and I'm exhausted. Thank you for your great kindness and help. May I take my leave of you?"

"Certainly, Belinda." He moved forward and took my hand with his small one, and I bowed. "Visit me again, you must. Interesting your company was."

I smiled. _Interesting, is it? Like that old Chinese curse?_ "Why, thank you, Master Yoda. I'm glad, I imagined I had been quite a bother, really. I wish I could say that the day was pleasant, but I've certainly learned quite a bit, and I found your company most interesting as well. But next time I'd skip the Inquisition, if I may."

He cackled at that. "That I can understand, but a bother you were not. Farewell, Belinda. May the Force be with you. "

"And with you, Master. And thank you again."


	10. Chapter 10

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

When I went to meditate, I was able to untangle the web after a while. The reason that Master Yoda had been so apologetic was that I _had_ been set up. The Council got to look like good guys, Master Dooku got to look like a fool, and they could tell how far he'd gone into the Dark Side – and all this while testing my control, resolve, and real intent. I had to admit, it was an elegant solution for a double handful of very thorny problems, if one didn't consider the cost to both Master Dooku and myself. Though I knew they had done what they needed to do, it would be a long time before I could entirely trust the Council and Master Yoda again – if ever. I'd have to be on my guard for their agenda – the status quo. To their minds, it was the way it had to be, I supposed. Either way, a word to the (not so) wise would have to be sufficient. The idea of having them play "good cop, bad cop" with me was a bit insulting, but there was nothing to do about it.

Over the next weeks, I underwent evaluation and training that made my recovery program to date look like a rest cure. I was discharged shortly after my conversation with Master Yoda and the Council. There were still blank places here and there in my memory – like the real name of that double damned Sith – but I was assured that the memory would return completely in time. I personally had my doubts. I still had a rigorous program of "rehabilitation" – it was hardly that, I'd never been in such good shape in my life, nor as coordinated. But it was fun, and I made progress, and I seemed to be passing the invisible tests. A couple of weeks after the Council ordeal, Master Bodreau called me to his office.

"Good morning, Master," I said. "You seemed a bit mysterious in your message. What is it?"

"You've been doing well, Belinda, and I've been pleased with your progress – both spiritually and physically," he said.

"Thank you, Master Bodreau," I said. "I appreciate that, your opinion means a lot to me."

"I've spoken with the Council about you. You show much strength in the Living Force, and a great desire to heal and make people well. If you are willing, I would be honored to take you as my Padawan."

I was speechless for a moment, but then it made sense. I had been wondering more and more about what my place in this world would be. It was odd – while I was meditating I had no anxiety, and knew that there was good work for me to do, friends waiting, even happiness. Master Yoda had told me so as well. But late at night I'd had doubts, when I wasn't so centered or calm. I was often all alone and still missed my friends and family terribly. But now, something clicked into place. This was the next step in my path, and it seemed like it should have been obvious from the first. I'd gotten on well with Master Bodreau; we shared many things in common. Neither of us could bear the suffering of another without trying to help. We had, even with the difference in species, similar senses of humor, sarcastic and a trifle dark.

"It would be a great honor to accept, Master," I said, almost overwhelmed by joy. "What must I do? "

"We must wait for Master Jinn to return, and there will be a breaking of the training bond you have formed with him. Then we will go before the Council and discuss your vocation. There will be a brief ceremony. You needn't have your hair cut short unless you wish it."

I had a sudden inspiration. "Why not?" I asked. "I am a beginner here, I know much less in some ways than the smallest child. If a haircut can remind folks – including me – of that for a while, then it's a pretty good deal."

He smiled. "That may be wise. I'll meditate on it."

I nodded. "I think it might be the right thing to do. And – what is involved in this breaking of the bond? Master Yoda mentioned it as well."

"It is also a brief ceremony. After the training bond is formally severed, the restrictions on your relationship are over. It is customary to give the former Master a gift on this occasion."

Well, that certainly made sense. "Are there any things that are customary to give?"

"Perhaps something emblematic of your training relationship might be the most appropriate," he said.

"Of course. Thank you, Master. I appreciate the explanation. I guess I'd better keep on studying." I took his hand. "I'll do my best."

"I know," he said, smiling. "I'm sure you'll do well."

Quarters were found for me in the Padawans' section of the Healer's wing, and it was quite a relief to be able to sleep in a real bed at night. I was sure I was still being monitored, but I had the illusion of some privacy, at least. The place was essentially an efficiency apartment, with a living area and a tiny kitchenette on one side, a 'fresher in the middle, and a small bedroom. The furnishings were simple and comfortable, and it was quite livable. Slan enjoyed the run of the place and learned to use the 'fresher much more willingly than the one on the ship. He had his nest and his goodie stash, and slept with me in the bed at night as always. Since I ate in the commissary or the medical complex, I didn't fuss about the kitchen much. I was, however, able to acquire a teapot, cups, and various teas – and, of course, some cookies for Slan. Applethorn tea was my favorite. About three days after I was discharged, on a quiet afternoon while I was studying, there came a chime at the door. When I went, expecting to have forgotten an appointment, there was Master Windu. Slan literally jumped for joy, and though he looked tired, Mace couldn't help but smile. Devastating. I found it hard to read him; he seemed well-defended, but there was sadness there.

"Well, hello, Master Windu! It's good to see you, how was your mission?"

He smiled a bit ruefully. "It went as well as could be expected, I suppose. The conflict has been stopped for another few years, until they find another reason to fight."

"Ah. Sounds like religion or culture, not resources."

"Right in one," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Where I came from, those were the worst kind of problems to solve – and the closer the cultures are, the more nasty the conflict, as a rule. I can't see that it would be any different here. Come in, have some tea. It isn't much, but it has running water and a 'fresher – amazing what you appreciate after primitive camping."

He chuckled. "I was actually seeing if you'd like to have some dinner with me. Master Yoda said you hadn't had many visitors."

"Well, I don't know folks yet. It's dinnertime already? Oh, time flies while you're trying to catch up. I'd love to. Will Jax be coming with us? He's been visiting me now and then. He's a wonderful little guy, you're doing well with him."

"No, he's off on a trip with his Clan. That's his age group. They're going to the Botanical Gardens, on a special trip. They'll be camping overnight."

"That sounds like fun – but heaven help the chaperons. I used to help lead a troop of Brownies; they were girls of about that age. Camping was quite an adventure."

He chuckled. "You've a gift for understatement. They're wonderful children, best experienced one or two at a time."

"That was exactly my impression. But Jax is a joy, Master, truly. Now, one moment while I check to see if I remembered to change the tunic with the jelly stain."

He smiled, and I went to the 'fresher, washed my face, ran a brush through the mop, pinned it back, and straightened myself out.

"The fastest woman I know," he said.

I snorted, and colored. "Don't tell me, that's not complimentary where you come from."

"Not exactly," I said, dryly. "But don't worry about it. I took your meaning. Let's go."

He chuckled, and offered his arm gallantly. _Woohoo, I have a date with Mace_. I took it, grinned back and Slan giggled at him, and off we went. He took me to the main Commissary, where many of the up-and-coming Knights, Masters, and Padawans ate. He introduced me to several of them, including a few of the Councilors I remembered from the movies. It seemed that at least some of my history had hit the rumor mill, and I spent a lot of time describing the island and my time with Qui-Gon. Slan made a big hit, too, and enjoyed his fame in a gracious manner – not to mention the cookies. Master Windu even knew that I was to be taken as a Healer Padawan, though I'd thought that wasn't general knowledge. I didn't mind, though – I was rather proud of it, even though I was apprehensive.

I was rather surprised at their gregariousness after Qui-Gon's quiet listening nature, but it made sense that they relaxed at home, at least a bit. And I felt sure that Qui-Gon just wasn't as social as these folks were, though they all thought highly of him. I got the idea from my observances of the others that as a loner he was something of an oddball among the Jedi, too. Well, we weirdos had to stick together. Knight Billaba, Mace's former Padawan, and Master Gallia were especially interested; I got the idea that Depa might have had something of a crush on Qui-Gon in her younger days. It was nothing that would interfere with her duties, but certainly there were warm feelings there. I could identify; I figured it showed good taste.

After initially feeling shy and intimidated by all these Knights and Masters, I relaxed a bit and found that I thoroughly enjoyed meeting and speaking with them. It was nice to have folks say hello to me in the corridors, too, and come to sit with me if they saw me alone in the dining hall. The Temple began to seem a bit more like a friendly place after that. I always enjoyed seeing Mace; he was kind, handsome, charming, and had a sharp, clever sense of humor that tickled me. I could see where he would have quite an effect on the ladies. I liked him. He came to visit a few times, and we played chess; I fed him tea and cookies, and got to hear some pretty amazing stories of the adventures of a Jedi Knight-errant. I knew that he was still observing me, but it was all right, it was one of the more pleasant observations I could imagine. I might have suspected him of pulling my leg occasionally, but I was sure he had no need to do that.

He either lost interest with me or was finished with his assignment after awhile, but it was good to know other people. I actually got a few messages from Qui-Gon concerning the progress of his mission. He first went to the refugee camp to oversee the effort to find the children homes and make the adults comfortable as much as he could. Many of the Healers went with him. It must have been a heavy, sad task, but he did it well, as he did most things. I felt sure that folks were as comfortable as they could be and well cared-for. I could see the echo of sorrow in his face even in a flickering holo transmission. It hurt me. The other part of the mission was less sad, I think; he was nailing down the lid on his proof of the schemes of the Trade Federation and Offworld Mining. From the minimal information he could give me, I theorized that he was using their own proprietary media and communications to flush them out. He had spoken occasionally of his friend, Finis Valorum, a Senator. I figured he was using those connections to ensure that there were some very public and unpleasant repercussions in the Senate from all the negative publicity that was appearing on various media outlets. I wasn't sure if there would be any other consequences for them, but hitting them in the pocketbook was certainly better than nothing.

I didn't have time for popular media, though. As I had acquired Aurebesh, I had begun to study when I could, and soon decided I should learn a bit about the politics and laws of this monolithic "Republic". A few days later, I put down The Citizen's Handbook to Coruscant after reading through part of it, hopelessly confused. Master Bodreau came to see me shortly thereafter as I was looking at the pad bemusedly and shaking my head.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, Master Bodreau. I just read through some of the handbook you gave me and I'm totally befuddled."

"I'm not surprised about that, it is perplexing." It had been a great relief to reacquire language, but sometimes I wondered if they regretted teaching me to talk. I could ask questions now. He chuckled. "Have you any specific questions?"

I smiled. "No, Master, I think I'll stick to science and medicine from now on. I can at least understand most of that, and heaven knows I have enough to catch up."

"Indeed. I believe that's a wise precaution, my dear. I will find more texts if you wish."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that, Master. But what's going on, why did you come? Is there a problem?"

"You doubtless know of the epidemic of Venkirian Influenza that's going around the Temple."

"Of course, it seems miserable. Why haven't I gotten it? I've certainly been exposed."

"You seem to have an immunity, perhaps from wherever you came from before. The tests came back yesterday. It's gotten to the crèche matrons, I'm afraid. We're quite short of help."

"That's rough, Master. Can I help? I'm a fair hand at changing diapers and rocking babies." Not to mention that I could use some cuddle time, I was sorely lacking.

He smiled. "I was hoping you might be willing to aid the Matrons while they're short-staffed."

"Of course, Master, I'll be glad to. Lead on." Thence followed a few weeks with the children, after some basic training. I started out with the babies, and fed, burped, diapered and bathed them to my heart's content. Though different species had slightly different needs, looks, and anatomy, they all loved being cuddled and sung to, and played with. They all responded to a hug and a kind word. It was comforting, and though I worked hard I was glad to be useful.

I became rather a utility infielder during the epidemic, which lasted for a month or so. I had some immunity to the 'flu, which seemed to be similar to one I'd had a year before (only a year? My goodness…) on Earth. So eventually the time came when the Matrons of the Tiger Clan sickened, and I was the night monitor while they got well. They were wonderful children – a Mon Calamari named Bant, a girl named Siri, a little boy named Bruck, and Obi-Wan, among others – but they seemed oddly quiet and tense for 5 and 6-year-olds. The other Clans I'd helped with (Falcon, Wolf, and the infants) had been normal, boisterous children, of several ages, but these children were at first downright reserved. Master Yoda often taught them during the day, since they were evidently at some kind of turning point in their training. I gathered that both Obi-Wan and Bruck had a problem with temper. As I recalled, most little boys of that age did, but I never saw it. I did see, however, that they all seemed to need an awful lot of affection – perhaps their Matron was more reserved than the others or something. I seemed to get lots of hugs from them, and they loved it when I read to them and sang them songs. They liked sillier ones the best, of course, especially after they loosened up a little. Never met any six year olds who didn't. We had a good time, and I quickly grew fond of them, and so did Slan.

I'd heard that Master Yoda often caused nightmares with his lessons on the future and such – that children often had visions as a result of his lecture. This was no different. Sure enough, that night as I was studying some physics in the Matron's Lounge, I heard a child cry out. I put my datapadd aside and went in to see what was the matter. They slept in the same room, on beds just their size, an improbable assortment of little people and the odd lovey. They were special, like all children are.

It was Obi-Wan, and he was crying. "No!" he said. "Don't hurt him! Nooooo –" A few of the other children around him began to stir, so I lifted him out of bed with his blanket and a stuffed bantha he clutched, and snuggled him up. Though he wasn't large for his age, he was very sturdy, and he clung to me, crying, with a stranglehold grip.

"Ssshhh. Hush, Obi-Wan. You're having a bad dream, it's all right."

"Bad man," he said, putting a small thumb in a slightly larger mouth. He looked pink and rumpled and panicky. This was rough. I'd been told he'd stopped sucking his thumb, but I could tell that he needed some kind of comfort and that was the best he could do. I felt the fear and sorrow emitting from him in waves. He took his thumb out quickly, embarrassed. I ignored it, and held him closely.

"No bad men here, Obi-Wan. You were having a dream, it's not real right now."

"He hurt my Master," he said. "He – killed him…"

"No, no, love," I said. "Come sit with me awhile in the lounge, and you can tell me about it if you like." He laid his head on my chest and I rubbed his back, and carried him into the lounge to a big soft rocking chair. I settled him on my lap and he snuggled in, relaxing as he adjusted to the surroundings and the dim light. "So. Tell me about it, Obi-Wan. What happened? Who was your master, and who was the bad man?"

"I don't know, I couldn't see who my Master was. The bad man was terrible… he was red and black, and he had a red lightsabre with -- with two blades. I've never heard of one like that. It – was awful. I couldn't get to – my Master --" He looked up at me, face streaked with tears. "Master Yoda said to be mindful of the future, but how can I do anything when I didn't even know who he's going to be? Is this – a vision?"

"It could be," I said, hoping he couldn't feel the horror I felt at his accurate descriptions of events I'd seen several times myself. I did my best to shield from him, and had to hold back tears. Until then, I had comforted myself that what I'd seen and knew couldn't happen here, that I'd merely repeated a story told with cutout characters on a movie screen. "I – I probably wouldn't know a vision if it knocked on my door and introduced itself, though…" I swallowed hard. How could I comfort him when he really _had_ had a vision of something horrible? I wiped the tears from his face with a soft old bandanna, one of the only things I had kept, and after a moment had an inspiration. "What else does Master Yoda say about the future?"

"'Always in motion, the future is,' that's what he says."

"What do you think that means, Obi-Wan?" I asked. _Tell me and we'll both know, okay?_

"That – it may not happen? Things can change?"

"That's right, I think. Maybe you're seeing one possible future, but it's not certain. I'd ask Master Yoda about it tomorrow, if you can. He knows much more about it than we do." I was shaking inside, but I had been told by Master Yoda and by my own perception of the message I had received about the story that I mustn't say much more. Certainly Master Yoda was wiser than I was on this, and I could not contravene his authority, either. _The poor little guy. He's stuck in the middle of this, the same way I am, and he doesn't even know as much as I do. It's just wrong. How can I comfort him? I'm the adult here, and I don't know_.

"But – what if it does happen? What if my Master is killed because of me?" He was crying again. "Well, Obi-Wan, maybe the Force has given you a warning."

"But what if I don't remember? I don't even know who my Master will be, how can I help him unless I know? How can I be good enough to save him?" That was not the right strategy. He was getting more upset, crying harder, anxious and tense, shaking.

"Obi-Wan, what can you do about it now?"

"I can remember."

"Yes, you can," I replied. And suddenly, I was given the knowledge that I could tell him something; that I really had to, as a matter of fact. "And I'll tell you a big secret. One of the reasons I'm here is to keep that horrible thing from coming to pass, because many other things that are very bad could happen as a result. But it's a secret. You can't tell anyone."

"I promise, I won't tell. A Jedi never breaks his promise."

"I know, Obi-Wan. You'll be a great Jedi someday."

His eyes widened. "Do you know?" he asked.

"As much as anyone can, I think. Now. It's really late at night, and you have a big day tomorrow. Do you want to sit here and stay with me until you fall asleep?" He nodded, and drew a deep shuddering breath. "Good. No more nightmares. Calm yourself, now, we can relax together so you can sleep better."

"All right," he said. We went through one of the exercises used to calm and center the children; it was one of the ones that Qui-Gon had taught me on the island, and we took ourselves to a safe, nice place where we could relax. "I wish I knew who it was that I saw," he said, a little less wound up than he had been. "How can I help him unless I know?"

"Maybe you're not supposed to know that," I said. "Maybe you don't know that person yet. Didn't Master Yoda say that the Force gives you only the information that you need?" He nodded.

"You've seen it, too, haven't you?" He asked. Perceptive child, but you'd expect that.

"Yes, I have," I said. "But not the same way you did, Obi-Wan. I never knew I could use the Force until I came here. Sometimes the ability develops later in life."

He nodded. "Master Yoda told us that once. I do my best to listen and be good enough," he said.

"Of course, Obi-Wan. I've only known you a little while and I know you work hard. You're good enough; don't worry so much. You're a wonderful boy. Now, try to relax a little more, okay?" We went through another relaxing exercise. I had to do my best not to fall asleep, too – it was late, and I was tired after all the studying. "Are you feeling better now?"

He nodded, now drowsy. "Can we see your kitty tomorrow?" He asked.

"Of course, I'm sure he'd never let me leave him behind."

It didn't take long before he was finally asleep, a heavy, warm weight getting warmer as he relaxed the rest of the way. I rubbed his back and he settled down, but I didn't bring him back to bed right away. I wanted to make sure he didn't have another dream. Anyway, he was cuddling close, and he seemed to need the contact. I certainly did; his dream had shaken me, too. I rocked him a little bit and considered. The fact that he'd seen it again seemed to indicate that it could happen still, and I couldn't live with that. I tucked him under my chin and stroked his hair softly as he fell deeper into sleep with the abandon of the small child. It was a chilly night, and he was comfortingly warm on my lap, alive, a beautiful little boy. I hummed a soft lullaby to him when he stirred.

I don't know how much later it was that I heard the sound behind me; I may have dozed off myself, but I immediately recognized the step and turned to grin at Qui-Gon as he laid a hand on my shoulder.

"They told me I'd find you here," he said, his warm deep voice soft so as not to wake anyone. "Who's your friend?" Obi-Wan stirred to the sound of his voice, and opened his eyes sleepily.

"This is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Tiger Clan," I said, feeling the need for a formal introduction. "Obi-Wan, this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn." He startled drowsily, looking cute and sweet as he blinked. Then he seemed to awaken and remember where he was, and recollect himself and his manners. He straightened up and bowed politely, reminding me alarmingly of a marionette in his stiff formal courtesy. I could feel his fear as he cast about wildly for a split second to try to remember why he was frightened.

"Pleased to meet you, Master Jinn," he said, almost singsong, in a much more diffident voice.

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Padawan Kenobi," he said, gravely, taking the proffered hand and smiling. "Isn't it late for you to be awake?"

"He had a – erm, dream," I said. "We're relaxing now."

He smiled. "Master Yoda gave the lesson on the future today, didn't he?" he asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. "He told us to be mindful," he said, a trifle defensively.

"Well, young Obi-Wan, it's right to be mindful of the future, but you must keep your concentration in the here and now, where it belongs. And now, you must sleep so you're ready for your day tomorrow. May I, little one?" He asked, laying his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan nodded once more, and Qui-Gon sent him to sleep, stroking the soft coppery hair gently.

"That's a neat trick," I said softly. "Show me sometime."

"You seemed to have it under control. Master Yoda _will_ persist in lecturing the children about the future when they're at this impressionable age. My first Padawan had nightmares for weeks."

"And you?"

"Certainly I did," he said, smiling ruefully. "But I've never been troubled by it since. I leave far sight to others, as a rule."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I replied. I took his hand. "I'm glad you came by, I was beginning to worry. How are you?" I privately thought he looked drawn, tired and even a bit thin.

"I am well," he said, "and you?"

"I'm fine. There's been something of an epidemic of flu among the crèche workers. I seem to be immune, so I volunteered. I've been busy. Not a bad thing, considering. How did it go?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied, with a sigh. He laced his fingers with mine.

"But in some way you've helped make sure that those people didn't die for nothing. You've made sure their children will be cared for, that they have the things they need. You've done everything you can, Qui-Gon. You can't bring them back." He nodded, looking sad and tired.

I went to get up with Obi-Wan, but he took the child from my arms and cuddled him close. Obi-Wan snuggled up instinctively to the broad warm chest, and the bright golden, green and blue flickers of aura I saw around them changed subtly and seemed to merge as he carried the boy to his bed and knelt to lay him down and cover him warmly. He smiled as he rose, and I fancied he looked better when he came back to the lounge.

"You've been studying," he said, indicating the datapadd.

I nodded. "Physics, tonight. The math is rather daunting, but I'm surviving so far. I've a lot to catch up. Now I know why you can travel faster than light... we can't do it in the neighborhood I came from."

"Oh? Then you've made a good start, it seems. Mace told me about your day at the Council. I trust you didn't have any undesired side effects." I gathered he referred to the migraine headaches of our early acquaintance.

"No, I seem to have that problem under much better control now, thank goodness." I sighed.

"That is fortunate," he said, nodding. "I am – sorry." I looked up at him and saw tightly controlled sorrow and anger in the lines of his face and body. I'd never seen that so strongly in him, and I knew then that Mace had told him _everything_ that had happened. _Where did this man get his intelligence?_ "It must have been quite an ordeal." I sighed, and shook my head.

"Well, I'm sorry, too. I shot my mouth off, and I didn't realize until hours later that both Master Dooku _and_ I had been set up, and none too subtly at that. I wasn't pleased about being played against him, but there isn't anything much I could do about that. I fancy he wasn't much amused either, once he caught on. Master Yoda told him to meditate on what I'd told him – and dismissed him like a fractious child. I'm sorry to say I was quite rude to him. He asked many offensive questions. I know that they had their reasons, but I did resent it at the time. It was quite embarrassing. I got over it, though. Can't take it back."

"Indeed," he said, with a wry smile. "The Council often acts in an – indirect manner. They can be most frustrating if you aren't accustomed to their methods." Ah, now I got it. _Duh. Before me stood the master of understatement_. I suddenly had the very clear picture of him being treated in exactly that manner, and it seemed all too familiar to him. The fact that it was his Master who had done it to me must have been an even more painful blow, rather like having a son betray you and a father blame you for it. He probably felt totally alone.

"Effective but wearing on all concerned, I'd think. Master Dooku looked like he'd taken a smack upside the head with a baseball bat when he left, and I knew I was a mess myself. No endurance, I think. I just wish they wouldn't be so damn careless about collateral damage." I took his other hand. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard to hear about that. People in pain do very strange things that they regret later. Master Dooku was in pain, Qui-Gon. As hard as that afternoon was on me, I wonder now if it wasn't that hard for him, too."

He turned away. "My feelings on the matter are irrelevant," he said. "I regret that you suffered for it." That sounded amazingly bitter. I saw pain in the tight line of his jaw and the rigidity of his posture, and I reached up and touched his shoulder. He breathed deeply, visibly relaxing, and turned back to me.

"Your feelings are _not_ irrelevant, Qui-Gon, they count as much as anyone else's, certainly as much as mine." I took his hands again. "Even if you don't let them control you, they're still there. I'm sorry they were hurt. It's done now, and it can't be undone. I just hope that he can come to understand how it really is. I'm all right, Qui-Gon. And it's better that I learn what happens here early on, I think."

"Perhaps you're right. It is late; you must rest as well. You still aren't as strong as you'd like to think."

"I do okay, even if the children are running me ragged. It's fun, really. Looks like you need a rest, too," I replied. "I'm going to stay here through the morning until the Clan's lesson with Master Yoda. Maybe we could have lunch together, if you have time." He smiled more sincerely, relaxing a little bit more.

"That would be good. I will be spending my morning with the Council." I winced.

"Ouch. Oh, dear. Well, then, when can I meet you?" We decided that noon at the main commissary would be a good time and place, and he hugged me and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. I squeezed him around the waist and melted a little, as I always did when he kissed me, laying my head on his chest.

"Good night, Belinda. May the Force be with you."

"And you too, Qui-Gon. Sounds like we'll both need all the help we can get in the morning. Rest well." He touched my cheek and smiled, and left. Child therapy strikes again. Perhaps he _would_ rest now.

The next morning was filled with getting seven five- and six-year-old children clean, dressed, and fed, and dealing with the results. They were wonderful about it, but no kid likes having his or her face washed. I was lucky, they usually did just fine on their own. Reeft, the little Dresselian child, would have eaten the table and flatware if I hadn't watched him closely. I was warned, fortunately. We did the pick up and clean up game, got everyone changed and neat, and were able to have some playtime and sing a few songs, which they really loved. Slan, as always, made a big hit. Obi-Wan, Bant, and Garen had him off in a corner during their playtime; they were conversing earnestly with him and seemingly teaching him something. I kept an eye on that, but it seemed harmless enough. They giggled a little off and on, but nothing seemed broken. I'd have to be thankful for that. Then it was tenth hour, and Master Yoda had come for the lesson. I had gotten them to that time intact, in reasonably good order, clean, and fairly happy. I figured I was ahead of the game, since they were all pretty much smarter than I was – even at five or six years old. But even though they were sweet, bright children, they were surprisingly quiet and even too well behaved. I expected noise and joy and even a bit of temper from them, but they were instead tense and controlled. _Was this the way they trained Jedi children? I wasn't sure I liked it. _

"Good morning, Master Yoda. Everything is ready for you," I said, bowing. "How are you today?"

"Well, I am, Belinda. Good, it is, to see you. A Matron you have become?"

"No, Master, just helping out because of the flu. I'm immune, luckily, so I volunteered to give a hand. It's been a lot of fun."

"Belinda taught us songs!" Bant said. "They're funny."

"And Slan is funny, too!" Garen said. I was downright distressed at how surprised they seemed to be that you could have fun with an adult.

Master Yoda raised an ear and nodded, smiling. "Good things, songs are," he said. "Sing them for me, you can, later. But now, time for lessons, it is."

"Yes, Master Yoda," they chorused. _Not even a smile? This was a little creepy._

"Have a good lesson, Tiger Clan," I said. "I'll see you later. Master Yoda, farewell."

"May the Force be with you, Belinda," he said. I bowed. "And you, Master, and Tiger Clan!" I walked out of the area; I was a bit disturbed by the overall climate of the Tiger Clan, so different from the other ones I'd seen over the last month. It was a nagging sensation, not anything I could put my finger on, but I'd have to discuss it with someone. It was that "bad feeling" I had heard so much about, doubtless.

"Come on, buddy, we've got to get cleaned up. I'm qualla jelly from head to foot. We're going to have lunch with Qui-Gon today."

/_Master Qui? Oooh, good!_ /

"Yes, and I have to shower and change. You missed him last night, sleepyhead."

/_I shower too?_ /

"If you like, Slan. Oh, I see you have jam on you, too. Well, come on. May I go first?"

"'Kay!"

"Thanks, I won't be long." I couldn't help grinning at him. I went in and did the deed, and came out rubbing my hair down. He went into the shower and splashed around – this was a recent development. He kept himself very clean, but decided that hot water was a good thing and fun to play with. I dressed and straightened myself out, and pinned my hair back with a silver knotwork barrette I had, and he came out with his towel, too. "You're a piece of work, Slan. You look nice and clean."

/_Good! Ready soon! _/ So we got ready, and he did whatever it was that Peroota Cats do to live up to some obscure standard of presentability. He didn't look much different to me, but why would I notice, after all? I'm sure he would be devastating to a lady Peroota Cat.

"Gorgeous. Come on, pal, we'll be late for our date," I said.


	11. Chapter 11

******DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest. 

We trotted down the corridor toward the main Commissary, Slan looking like a navigator on my shoulder. He was a great conversation starter; I'd give him that. He was standing up tall so he could spot Qui-Gon. He'd really missed Qui-Gon, and he giggled all the way down the hall. I got to the door of the commissary at noon on the dot, and was surprised by the sight of not one tall Jedi but two. Qui-Gon had brought Master Dooku with him to lunch.

I had decided over the last few weeks that if I met Master Dooku again, I'd offer an olive branch, even if I had to watch carefully to avoid getting smacked upside the head. I couldn't forget that his knowledge had saved my life, and that he had fought for me in the mental treatment as well, in whatever strange place that was. Anyone who could do that for a stranger was certainly worth another chance. Qui-Gon thought the world of him, and I was willing to give it that, since we'd both been manipulated like simple marionettes. I couldn't imagine that he didn't know.

"Good day to you, Masters," I said. Before I could say anything else, Slan straightened up on my shoulder and executed a very creditable formal bow to both Qui-Gon and Master Dooku. He even made a leg. They couldn't resist bowing back, though Qui-Gon scooped him onto his shoulder with a laugh. I could only bow my own head and chuckle with them. Mr. Icebreaker, here he is. "Master Dooku, this is Slan. Never a dull moment with you, pal," I said to Slan. "I was wondering what the children were teaching him. It's actually something of a relief to know it was courtesy."

"Pleased to meet you, Slan," he said, and took the hand Slan offered him gravely. I could see a sparkle of subtle humor in his eyes behind the severe mask of Jedi calm. He turned his eyes to me and I also saw kindness there, though it was veiled, even hidden. I almost thought Qui-Gon must have taught _him_ that.

"I hope my presence is not offensive to you," Master Dooku said, facing me directly.

"No, Master Dooku. I'm glad to get the chance to speak to you under – erm, better circumstances. I was regrettably outspoken the last time I saw you. I feel more than a bit awkward about it." I looked up at him, straight in the eye. His gaze _did _seem different now, less haunted and empty. I hoped that he had gained some knowledge and comfort from his assignment, however brusquely it had been given. I was beginning to be underwhelmed by Master Yoda's methods. The end does _not _always justify the means, even if you are 800 years old. In his defense, I'd admittedly seen a limited sample. I'd have to watch the old gnome. "I have a constitutional aversion to being abused and manipulated, and I feel foolish that I didn't see it happening then."

"As do I," he replied, with a bit of a smile. "I was very harsh and unforgivably rude, Miss Kyle. It is not a bad thing to be outspoken when it is necessary. I hope you can find it within you to forgive a foolish old man."

I took a deep breath and looked around. "I shall when I see a foolish old man, sir. But I'm willing to take a step back and start over, if you are. Truce?" I offered my hand.

He smiled all the way, now, and took the hand I offered and bowed over it as Qui-Gon had when we'd first met. "That will be most satisfactory," he said.

Qui-Gon smiled a bit behind his Master's shoulder. He'd gotten one in on us, I guessed. It was amusing to sense that he was surprised that his Master would make such an admission. I guessed that Master Yoda's reproof had hit home.

"Qui-Gon, how did your debriefing go?" I asked. I tried sending him a mental picture of the pun and his ears turned pink and he snorted genteelly.

"As well as can be expected," he said.

"Thank heaven for small favors," I said. "Shall we go in? I expect to make quite an impression – it isn't every day that a girl has _three_ handsome fellows escort her to lunch." Slan stood up on Qui-Gon's shoulder – he came about to the top of Qui-Gon's head – and struck a pose.

_/Lunch? /_

"Yes, greedy gut, lunch." I chuckled. "His motivations are simple."

"Definitely an advantage," Qui-Gon said, smiling and scratching Slan between the ears.

"True. And I'm happy to say I haven't fed him anything bad for him, he's an omnivore. One of my first research topics," I explained to Master Dooku. "I figure he saved my sanity for a few months, I should know how to take good care of him. I'm glad to see I was doing all right," I said, as we were seated at a quiet table in a corner by a window, by a young Padawan, who presented us with the menu of the day, complete with pictures. This Commissary was set up like a restaurant, and I usually didn't eat here because I preferred to wait upon myself, but Qui-Gon had chosen the place, and perhaps this was why.

_/Lyn take __**good**__ care! Doesn't let me eat enough cookies. /_

"Come on, Slan, you'd eat nothing else if you got all the cookies you want. And you like other stuff, too." Another Padawan came to take our order. He was not human, as the first one had been, but covered with short golden fur. "Qui-Gon, what are these green vegetable patties?"

"They're spicy and crunchy, you might like them. They have a lot of protein."

"Sounds great to me," I said. "How about you, Slan?"

He made a dramatic gesture, clapping a hand on the top of his head like Bill Shatner in a third-season _Star Trek._ I laughed again. "I didn't realize I was bringing the comic relief to this potluck," I said. "Next time I'll sign up for brownies. Bring him some of the vegetable patties too, please, and some apple thorn tea – and some canja cookies for dessert, if you would. Thank you!" I told the Padawan.

He bowed and smiled, displaying a rather dauntingly large and sharp set of teeth to go with the slit-pupilled golden eyes of a felinoid. He walked away gracefully, seeming to float over the floor in his robes. It was wonderful to watch people when there were so many different _kinds_… I had to be careful not to stare. Qui-Gon saw me look, and smiled a bit once more. Master Dooku raised an elegant eyebrow.

"I came from a world where we'd no contact with any off-planet species, Master" I said, by way of explanation. "I find everyone rather fascinating. I try not to stare. I guess I'm getting used to it slowly."

"Qui-Gon mentioned that. He said it was quite a shock to you to see Master Bodreau when you awakened."

"Well, I suppose you could call it that. It rather pales in comparison to the rest of what happened around that time. I credit my upbringing – it taught me to take people one at a time, no matter what they look like. Seems to be a good rule here, too."

"Indeed," he said. "One could do far worse."

Our food came very quickly, and we ate quietly for a while; all of us were hungry. To my delight, the patties were very close to falafel, a favorite dish of mine. Slan liked it too, and stuffed himself while Qui-Gon and Master Dooku told us about the dish. Evidently it came from Alderaan. There were crisp greens and a dense yellow grain similar to rice, actually named raza. Slan curled up on my shoulder and promptly went to sleep after eating a paltry two cookies. I never knew where he put it all.

Master Dooku poured us tea when we had finished, and we doctored it as we chose. I'd found that now I had somewhat less of a sweet tooth than before, which was a mercy. I'd been told when I asked that my metabolism had been 'adjusted', whatever that meant. It was a relief not to have chocolate attacks on a monthly basis, though.

"Miss Kyle," Dooku said, as we sipped, "Qui-Gon and I have been charged with the investigation of the attack upon you. We will need to know everything you can tell us about it."

"Ask away, Master; I'll be glad to give you all the information I can, but it's pretty limited," I said. "I've still got blank places in my memory that haven't come back yet. Fortunately, they're mostly limited to around that time. The Healers have said that the memories will return, but they may take time."

He nodded. "Yes. But I've some evidence that the poison and mental attack techniques used on you were from the arsenal of an ancient enemy of the Jedi – an enemy we thought had died out a millennium ago. They are called the Dark Lords of the Sith."

They watched me closely, and it was quite plain that I was unsurprised at the revelation, and that I recognized the name. I didn't try to hide it.

"Are the Sith in your story, as well?" Qui-Gon asked, gently. He'd been largely silent, allowing his Master to do most of the talking.

"They are," I replied, nodding. "Master Dooku, what can I do to help you in your investigation? I'm sure that Qui-Gon has told you that on the world where I came from the Jedi are part of a popular fiction. Both Qui-Gon and you figure quite prominently in the story I know, and because of that you'll understand that I feel reluctant to say much about it However, if the Sith are as dangerous an evil as they are in that story, I'm certainly more than willing to do anything else to help. As a matter of fact, one of the things quite neatly removed from my memory is the name of the person who is or will be one of the Sith Lords – most likely the Master."

They studied me once more, and they nodded.

"Most unfortunate," Master Dooku said, catching on at once.

"Well, I certainly have no wish to _impede_ your investigation," I said. "I'm happy to do anything within my power to help except tell you things that I shouldn't. And perhaps over time, what I am allowed to tell you may change. I don't know. I'm taking notes and making this up as I go along, like you are."

That got a real smile out of Master Dooku, the first one I'd ever seen. He was suddenly quite charming, and _very _handsome indeed, if you liked that type. "If you've discovered our secret so soon, Belinda, it won't be long before you're a Master as well." Was he _teasing_ me? I grinned back. There was someone extraordinary under that severe exterior, perhaps someone who stood on a knife's edge, walking the line between darkness and the light. Maybe I could learn more, even help him. It suddenly seemed very important for me to understand him more, now that we'd connected.

"Ha. I'm about 20 years late, Master. I just have to follow the rules. I must admit that I'm used to a little more freedom of choice. Is it this way for you, having to do things you don't always like because you're directed to do so?"

"More often than we care to admit," he said, with a sigh. "Evil must be met and destroyed, young woman, and the Force charges us to do this. However, it often gives us a bit more information. Qui-Gon, have you been able to find any solid proof of the Trade Federation scheme?"

"No direct documentation, unfortunately. Xanatos has managed to cover his tracks quite skillfully. He's also gone to ground. I have ascertained that he is not on planet," he said, with a rueful look, "and I have managed to make the area a bit uncomfortable for him. I expect him to lie low for some time."

"Oh, well – that's a relief," I said, sighing. "One less thing to worry about."

"Yes," Master Dooku said. I could see a sadness about him, and regret. Was he blaming himself, too? "We will have to deal with him eventually, but there are more pressing matters now. Is the Trade Federation part of this myth as well?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir, they are. Typical robber barons – that's what they called them in the history of my country, ruthless in their pursuit of profit and power. Qui-Gon says they even have their own representative in the Senate. Ours never got that far, but it was only a matter of time. I expect they owned small countries."

"Is that why you asked me about the explosion?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well, yes. I couldn't just say, 'Listen, the Trade Federation are evil rotten bad guys', I had to give you a reason to suspect them and look into the explosion and who was behind it. You'd no reason to take me at my word at that point. The fact that I was vomiting and hiding from the sun was hardly in my favor, either. I wasn't exactly at my best."

He chuckled. "Given," he said.

"Why would you have been sick?" Master Dooku asked.

"I had an unfortunate tendency to develop a vascular headache when I became angry," I said. "We call them 'migraine', and the symptoms are intense pain, nausea, and sensitivity to light and sounds. I have it a bit more under control now; it seems that it's related to what is called 'Transition Sickness' here. I believe that whoever attacked me when I first arrived on Coruscant took advantage of the problem and used it to cause at least two different cerebral hemorrhages. I could even have had an aneurysm, and never known."

Qui-Gon looked shocked. "Well, no wonder you - were in Bacta for so long," he said. _Odd, was that a hesitation I heard there?_

"Yes," Master Dooku said contemplatively. "That and the poison used would have been -- _quite_ effective. Do you believe it to be the Sith who attacked you?"

"I don't know; my memory of those events is hazy at best, Master. It would be the logical conclusion. It wasn't Xanatos; I would have recognized him from our prior encounter. I can't imagine that anyone else would have known."

"How so?"

"Xanatos referred more than once to _his_ Master in our interaction, and told me that I would do well to join them," I said. "He didn't mean you or Qui-Gon."

There was a short silence at the table. "How do you draw the conclusion that Xanatos' new master is the Sith?" Qui-Gon asked, quietly.

"Well, the evidence is strictly circumstantial, but who else would have known about me? Could Qui-Gon's transmissions have been monitored? As far as I know, there were only a few of those. And how many hundred Jedi report here in the course of a day? That stretches the bonds of probability, you must admit. No, the more parsimonious scenario is that Xanatos reports to his Master, who has said he could use someone like me in his operation. His Master keeps an eye on the planet in question, and when we are taken to Coruscant, he attacks. This would indicate at least a base here on Coruscant, but that would be logical, since this is where the power and money are – and the Jedi. The attacker uses techniques and poison of the Sith, since it is thought that they are extinct. Is there any kind of likelihood that there are two Sith Masters running around? More?"

"Good point," Qui-Gon said.

"Hey, I've had months to figure this out. It's easy to look smart when you've nothing else to occupy your mind. I also had a piece of the puzzle that you may not immediately have considered, that there is the possibility of the Sith being involved. I don't claim any other advantage, and it's just a rough first conclusion. But it does make the logic course in college seem to be a wise investment of time…" I shook my head. "But of what use could I be? I mean, you've both, for lack of better words, been inside my head. So has Master Yoda. How could he think that he could hide from all three of you?"

"Evil is subtle, and often hard to see," Master Dooku replied.

"So he figured you couldn't see him? _All three of you_?"

"I assume," Master Dooku said, "that he did not think you would survive."

I nodded. "Well, under most circumstances, I wouldn't have," I said. "Fortunately, these weren't most circumstances."

"Yes," Master Dooku replied. "Would you recognize the Sith if you saw him or her?"

"I've never seen him, Master. I probably wouldn't know him if I bumped into him on the street. I can tell you from my perceptions that he might be human, and that he's most likely male. Other than that, not much."

"That's something to go on," Qui-Gon said. "But you still don't know the name of the man?"

"Not a clue," I replied. "Nothing there."

"Distressing," Master Dooku said. "But logical. If he could only choose one path to erase, then the identity would be the one that would make the most trouble."

"Exactly," I replied. "If I told all the rest of the details, it might be possible to deduce his identity, but it would take time – time in which he could forge a new identity, if he so chose. So we're out either way."

"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded.

"So, that's all I can tell you," I said. "I wish it were more. I may be of some use to you in other ways. Let me know if I can help."

"I will do so," Master Dooku said. "But I would prefer you to be more skilled at self-defense before you take any more active role in the investigation."

"I see my legend looms large even here in the Temple. Hey, I'm great against trees. I left a big dent on one… with my head, that is."

Qui-Gon chuckled at that, and once again I detected a twinkle in Master Dooku's eye. There was a definite sense of humor there, I could tell. I was actually beginning to think that I could get to like him – eventually.

"I understand that congratulations are in order," Master Dooku said, turning to me once more. "I've been told that Master Bodreau has offered to take you as his Padawan."

"Yes," I said, smiling. Evidently you couldn't swing a cat in this place without the whole outfit knowing in three hours. Typical small town, everyone knows everyone else's business – but this was aided by other talents. "I'm delighted, and a little nervous – but it's wonderful."

"You will be a fine Healer," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "Master Bodreau says you're already coming along well. The ceremony will be tomorrow. I will meet with you later today and instruct you on the preparations necessary."

"Thank you," I said. "Folks have been pretty close about it."

He smiled. "It will be a change, but it is a necessary one. It's really nothing arcane, it's just a symbolic sort of changing of the guard."

I nodded. "So I understand… but it seems rather mysterious. Remember, I'm from outside this frame of reference, and I don't always understand. The whole thing is rather intimidating… I'd hate to think that I won't see you again."

"It is more for the benefit of the Council and the Order than for us," he said. "We will remain friends."

"Oh," I said. "That's different, then. It's been so hush-hush, I thought it was something monumental."

"No," Master Dooku said, "it is nothing to worry about. It's merely an artifact of a somewhat extreme interpretation of the Jedi Code. It's a mere formality to the participants, and it preserves a – trust, as it were."

I nodded. "I see. Well, then, we'll just do what needs to be done. And don't sell preserving trust short, Master Dooku, it seems to work."

"Indeed," he said, smiling fondly on Qui-Gon. It seemed that they'd settled whatever differences they had, and were friends once more. The relief from Qui-Gon was palpable if you knew him. As much as I could tell, I knew him perhaps as well as his year-mates, even though I'd only been with him several weeks. Of course, they hadn't been in his back pocket, as I had. He didn't let many people close to him, I had found; even his friend Mace was puzzled by him at times. Master Dooku seemed to understand him quite well. That wasn't surprising, considering that they'd been together from the time Qui-Gon was about thirteen until he was knighted, and friends since.

"Come," Qui-Gon said. "We will speak of this, and I'll show you the preparations that must be made. If you will excuse us, my Master?"

"Certainly," he replied. "And it was good to talk to you, Belinda," he said.

"Good to talk to you, too, Master Dooku. Please let me know if I can help you."

"I shall. May the Force be with you."

"And you, Master."

He bowed politely and swept off grandly in his robes, and we went the other way, toward the Healers' Wing and the meditation chambers. Qui-Gon led me to a particular one he seemed to favor, quietly, and we entered a room with a fountain and a peaceful garden.

"It's lovely here," I said. "Thank you for bringing Master Dooku to lunch. We really got off on the wrong foot, and I felt badly about it. I hope we can go on from here."

"I think so," he replied. "Your willingness to start again impressed him."

"Hey, I screw up, I do what I can to make amends. Says so here in the small print somewhere. I think we both needed to get over ourselves. I expect it's more difficult when you've been played for a fool and you're _not_ used to it."

He smiled. "Indeed. And, as you say, he is certainly not used to that sort of treatment. Were it not for his unorthodox methods and views, he would be on the Ruling Council as well as the Council of First Knowledge."

"What's that?" I asked.

"It is a body of Jedi who research the history of the Jedi Order. There are many books and prophecies of the ancient Jedi, since the Order spans more than a thousand generations."

I shook my head. "That's amazing. I come from a country that's just over 200 years old, and recorded civilization on my planet isn't as old as twenty-five thousand years. It's no surprise that you'd need a council to keep track of it."

He chuckled. "You might think of it that way. We are taught the history of the Order while we study as Padawans, of course."

"I'd think so. I've already started studying the Healers and their history."

"Excellent. Their order is as old as the Jedi – their roots go back even farther. Before there were Knights and Consulars, there were Healers, even in primitive civilizations – "

"Like mine?" I asked, smiling. He smiled and looked down, nodding. "Not to worry, I understand. Now. This 'bond breaking' ceremony. You mentioned preparations. What am I to do? Master Bodreau mentioned that a gift was in order, and I have very little to give, but just small things."

He colored. "Belinda, that is not necessary."

"I don't think so, Qui-Gon. You have been patient beyond measure with me, and you have given me so very much – there's no way I can repay you. I just hope I am worthy of the trust placed in me."

"I know you well enough to be sure of that, so don't worry at all about it, or the ceremony. We will still be as we are afterward, friends. The – other restrictions on our relationship will cease. But I will be often in the field. It may be hard to stay in touch."

"I don't mind making the effort, Qui-Gon. It is precious to me that when I came to another universe I found a good man who is a fine friend. You have made this a much less lonely place for me, and for that I am also grateful." I took his hands in mine, and he kissed my fingers. I was momentarily speechless, and caught a quick breath in surprise.

"And I have received many gifts from you as well," he said. "Your confidence and faith means much to me."

"Well, everyone needs a cheering section. I'm glad I can oblige. You are really quite remarkable, you know. You may forget it, but it's wonderful, to see all of you here. So. We need to prepare for this – ceremony? How do I do this?"

"It is customary to spend much time in meditation in preparation, both with your present Master and your Master to be." At my wry face, he chuckled. "I realize you may not be pleased with this," he continued.

"Well, to quote a friend, I'll do what I must," I said, twigging him gently.

He chuckled once more. "Shall we begin?"

"Certainly, Master," I said, smiling up at him. "You'll find I'm a bit better at meditating than before, thank heaven." He raised an eyebrow and settled into a comfortable pose, sitting on his heels. I winked at him and followed suit.

It was easy to slip into what I had found was in fact a light meditative trance. It had been a while before I had realized that it wasn't daydreaming when I could feel the motion of the Force around me, moving through everything and all the creatures around me. I didn't often _call_ it trance, because what I'd heard of that state was a bit more mystical than my temperament – and sense of humor – allowed. It was a way to see differently and more deeply the things I needed to understand. It had taken time with what I now called my "new brain", but it was a bit easier to find the place I needed to go, and easier to stay there once I got there. I felt Qui-Gon's presence as I had on the island, and it was a comfort. I was more able to feel the intense life of him, the brightness of the inner flame. I could better appreciate his uniqueness, and found that I loved him even more because I could see him so much better – if one could by chance measure love. _You're hopeless, Kyle, give up. _But I was able to let that go and watch it go by with the rest of my monkey mind, even as I treasured our closeness. If I didn't stay in the moment, then I wouldn't be enjoying the time with him. Now I could see the use of the teaching. Why anticipate the sorrow of missing him?

Amazingly enough, in that calm and peaceful place, we meditated for quite a long time, more than an hour. Slan woke up around then, too, and I felt centered and reassured by the interval, and rose with Qui-Gon and was pulled into a warm embrace. "Now do you understand, little one, that we will not change?" He asked softly.

"I think so," I said, resting my head on his chest, hearing his heart beat. It was a comforting sound. "So, am I to meditate for the rest of the day?"

"As much as you can, I would say. Speak with Master Bodreau and find his wishes. I will see you tomorrow morning at the ceremony. May the Force be with you." He kissed my forehead gently and I sighed.

"And with you, Qui-Gon. Tomorrow, then." I touched his chest.

I went up to see Master Bodreau and he was speaking with Master Yoda, surprisingly enough.

"Good afternoon, Masters," I said, bowing. "Are you well?"

"Looking for you, we were, Belinda," Master Yoda said.

"Oh, well, then. I was meditating with Master Jinn, in a garden. I'm sorry, you could have commed me."

"Necessary to interrupt you it was not," he said, smiling. "For your ceremony you must prepare."

"Yes, Master," I replied. "How may I help you?"

"Helped with the Tiger Clan you have, over the past few days," he said. "Wondered, I did, what your impression was."

"Of the children? They're sweet and well behaved," I said. "Even a bit _too_ well-behaved, Master, if you know what I mean. They seem – well, almost nervous. They don't often run and play like the other children I've known at their age. It distresses me; I'm most fond of them."

He nodded. "Hmmf," he grumbled. "Fond of you they are as well. Unsure, they seem to me, afraid. Troubling this is; investigate this we must."

"Let me know if I can help, Master," I said, looking to Master Bodreau. He nodded, smiling. "I'm glad you're looking into it."

"Call upon you, we may," he said. "Worry you should not."

"Not now," I said, smiling.

He chuckled. "Much confidence you have in me, young one. Prepare, you must, for your ceremony. Discuss with Master Bodreau the preparations, as well. May the Force be with you. Come, little friend," he said to Slan. "Stay the night with me you will, while Belinda prepares." Slan scrambled to Master Yoda's hoverchair, giggling. Master Yoda scratched him behind the ears.

"And with you, Master Yoda. Thank you." He departed with a smile for me, and I bowed as I had been instructed. "He'll need it," I muttered. Master Bodreau chuckled. "Master, I've just meditated with Master Jinn," I continued. "He told me to come speak to you and see how you would like me to prepare."

"Excellent. Well, we have things to do as well. Are you resolved to have your hair cut in the Padawan fashion?"

"Yes, I think it would be the right thing. I am a beginner, I must behave like one; and that will let folks know that _I _know, if that's not too complicated."

"No, I believe it is fine reasoning. And it indicates that you are not too proud to be taught."

"How else would I learn?" I said, puzzled. "Here, I'm a beginner. No matter what I think I know, I have to go back to the start, to relearn some things that here even children know better than I. It's silly to be unwilling to learn."

"Indeed it is," he replied. "But often people are silly, as you well know. First we must meditate together. I use a sound to aid the establishment of a correct frame of mind. Will that be a problem?"

"I don't think so. I've never used one but the wind and the waves on the island. I found that to be very pleasant. I'm willing to give it a shot."

He smiled. "Excellent. Make yourself comfortable, then, and we will begin."

The sound was rather like the Indian music I'd heard, a rather droning, dreamlike non-melody. It made a focus for my monkey mind and blotted out the small sounds of the environment well, and wasn't quite complicated enough to be a distraction. This was the first time I'd meditated with Master Bodreau, and I could feel that now there were connections being forged between us. I could perceive his foundation, the need to help the injured, heal the sick with the ability he'd been given. We shared much more than a sense of humor and a love of diversity. His calling was the same as mine, and that reassured me even though it was not a surprise. We could make this work.

When we rose, an hour later, he took my hands. "You will be a fine Healer," he said. "I am looking forward to your time as my Padawan."

"I'll do my best," I said. "I'm looking forward to it, too, Master."

He took me on rounds now, for the first time. I made notes on a datapadd and was given assignments on different species and some basic microbiology. I helped with a dressing and changed a little one, hands on for the first time. It felt like home.

After a dinner where I was not really hungry, I went back to my quarters and packed the few things I had. I would have an adjoining apartment to Master Bodreau's, in consideration of my age and independence. There wasn't much, just my clothes and the few things I'd brought with me. Qui-Gon had given me a plant to cheer me while I was recuperating and it was thriving happily. It seemed dry, so I watered it a bit and decided it would soon need a new pot. It was a deep, vibrant jewel green and wandered like a thick spider plant. I made a note to ask Qui-Gon what it would need in the way of soil and fertilizer.

I settled for my own meditation, and wondered at my apprehension. All along, since the moment Master Bodreau had asked me to be his apprentice, I had known beyond a doubt that this was where I was meant to be, and that this was my work, what I was meant to do. I should be happy, but now I felt sad, as though I was mourning a death. And then I realized it – in a way, I was. I loved the presence of Qui-Gon in my mind and heart, wise and kind, strong and patient and gentle. His influence had steadied me, and I had drawn strength from it even when he was parsecs away. I didn't want to give it up. He had said that we would still be friends, but did that mean that I would still have this sense of him to cherish? Or would the breaking of the training bond remove his warmth from me?

I guess I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I must accept whatever came, and learn to deal. I sighed. It wasn't quite enough, but it would have to do. It was late, I was tired, and it would be a busy day tomorrow.

I awoke an hour earlier than my alarm chime, and the sense of apprehension and sorrow remained. Well, there was time, and I didn't wish to have my innards picked apart before the Council, so it was time to do it myself. What was this, after all, but the anticipation of grief? That was stupid. There was enough of that in the world; I had no need to borrow any. In a way, this was giving up the idea that I could go back home; I knew that. If my arrival here had been a random event, it was too much to assume that another one would return me. Hell, even if another hole opened up, I could wind up anywhere. Jupiter, say, or Venus – or deep space, for that matter. None of those possibilities was very appealing. And if I was here for a reason, I had a job to do. If the Force said it was here, then it was here. It was hardly time to stop depending on it now. I was rather committed.

The chime went off, and I got up and bathed carefully, and pulled my hair back simply. Two of my soon to be fellow Padawans came after I dressed in the eggshell white of the Initiates and escorted me to the Council Chamber. They smiled when they saw my gifts for Qui-Gon.

"Are those for Master Jinn?" Junie asked.

"Yes. I'm told that it's customary. Am I all put together?"

"You look beautiful," Maru replied. She was a Chadra-Fan, training at the main Temple to be a Healer. I liked her; she was fun to be around. She was sweet, endlessly kind and patient with me, too. "At least, for a human. Are you going to have your hair cut, really?"

"Yes, having my hair cut is the right thing. Anyway, it's less trouble when it's short."

Junie giggled. "Master Jinn won't like it, though."

"Huh? Why should he not like it? What difference does that make?"

"I just heard that he thinks your hair is pretty, that's all. It is, you know."

"Well, thank you. Where did you hear that? No matter, my hair will grow back. It's important, or I wouldn't do it."

"You were around Master Jinn too much," Maru said, laughing. "The Force tells him to do whatever he does, but he always gets in trouble for it."

"I didn't find that," I said. "But I did find him to be a wonderful teacher."

"And he's _gorgeous,"_ Junie said. "All that wonderful hair and the beard, and those _eyes – _and so handsome, too." Junie was 15 years old and human, and her hormones were kicking in big time. I smiled.

"I can't argue that," I said. "He's a good friend, too. I'm going to miss him, but I hope we can stay in touch."

"It's hard to stay in touch with a Knight," Maru said. "They're not supposed to have attachments."

"I know. But I couldn't find anything in the Code that forbids him having friends." _Or love, for that matter… _

"Oh, you've been watching too much holovision," Junie said. "That stuff is from _Tales of the Jedi._ But it is hard for a field Jedi to have any kind of relationship. I write letters to the Master who rescued me from Kessel, but he can hardly ever answer them."

"_Tales of the Jedi, _eh?" I asked. "I'll have to take it off my list. I doubt I'll have any time for that kind of thing."

"Why not? It's really funny. They make a Jedi's life look really romantic and exciting, when most of the time it's boring and mundane."

I chuckled. "Really? And here I thought I'd enlisted in an exciting service."

Maru snorted – and having four nostrils, that came out pretty loud. I grinned. She looked like nothing more than the Dormouse from _Alice in Wonderland_. I loved her sense of humor. "Not a chance, Lyn. It's going to be paperwork and Master Yoda's bad knee for the likes of us until we're finished training."

"Oh, well. Guess I'll have to get used to it. Join the Jedi, see the paperwork." I got up and straightened my clothing as they giggled. "You know, you probably weren't supposed to let the cat out of the bag."

They looked quizzical. "Isn't Master Yoda taking care of Slan?" Junie asked.

"Oh. That's an expression from where I come from – and it would take a long time to explain, I'll do it another time. Come on. It's about time, I think."

I came to the chamber with the girls and was directed to kneel in meditation by Master Tuvoka. I found the place to be peaceful as I settled into stance; it was a different room than the main Council Chamber. I was able to be calm myself, and find the center easily, relax into something _I_ might even call a trance. It was an enjoyable thing, to feel this peace. Finally, maybe I was getting something right. And now the Force was more willing to speak to me, to tell me that _this_ was right, that this was where I was meant to be. _I must need a baseball bat, _ I reflected. Qui-Gon was no longer to be my teacher, but he would be my friend. And he must be free, to train Obi-Wan and even Anakin to come. _Yes, __**he's**__ meant to train Anakin – maybe with a committee. That's the great wrong of it all, that Obi-Wan was not a bad teacher, just __**not **__meant to train Anakin. Qui-Gon is… _I could see it, now, and I could see Qui-Gon with Anakin, smiling, silver streaked in his hair as the tall young man practiced a 'sabre kata. Was this a vision? I didn't know, but it was a far happier ending than I'd seen before, even if the cinematography wasn't too spectacular. Not up to Lucas' standards, but I'd take it.

I felt Qui-Gon approach, and hastily got my thoughts in order. Wouldn't do to be having a vision when I was supposed to be breaking a training bond, I guessed. His Master was with him; they were both dressed now in a more formal style. They radiated a deep peace and stillness that I could not hope to emulate, but it didn't seem that such was expected of me. Though Qui-Gon's face was serene, I could feel his muted joy that I'd found a place, and work to do. Master Dooku actually _smiled_ at me.

"This is indeed a glad occasion," Master Tuvoka said, "that of the acceptance of Belinda Kyle as a Padawan in the Order of Healers. To enter into this formal apprenticeship, we must first release her from the training bond she has formed with Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Master Jinn, are you ready to release your student?"

"I am," he said, surely.

"And Belinda, are you ready to release your teacher?"

"Yes, I am," I said. "And I wish to thank Master Jinn for the great gift of his wisdom and care."

Qui-Gon smiled, and I met his eyes and smiled back. He reached out and took my hands and kissed them. "And I thank you, Belinda, for all you've given me."

The look in his eyes made me color, and I suddenly had tears as something _was_ released between us.

_How I'll miss you. _

_(__It's time to move on,__) _came the gentle message from him. I nodded. "Now your hands will heal as you have always desired," he said. "We are fortunate indeed."

I swallowed hard. "I am honored to serve," I replied, only a bit hoarse.

"Be mindful," he continued. "Honor your Master as you have honored me. You have done well."

I could not speak, but bowed my head over our joined hands and a tear fell on them. _(__Do not grieve, little one,__) _came the thought.

_I'll do my best, Master. _I couldn't resist twigging him one last time, but this last time he accepted the title calmly.

_(You have always done that.)_

I felt him swallow, too. "Yesterday, I was favored to be your teacher by the Will of the Force. Today, I rise and greet you as a friend." He pulled me to my feet and into his embrace. I laid my head against his shoulder and drew a long, shuddering breath. I had feared the loss of him, but he was still there. Thank God, the Force, or whatever you like.

"Always," I said. He smiled and kissed my forehead. It had been brief and without fuss, and now indeed he stood as my friend. I felt very fortunate, humbled as though I had been given a precious gift – as indeed I had. It would be all right.

I gave my gifts to Qui-Gon; the book, the chess set, the little fob and the songs and readings I'd done for him on datachips. He smiled as he accepted them, and thanked me gravely. He looked at the hair clip and raised an eyebrow.

"I won't be needing it soon," I said. "And it will look well on you."

There was another period of centering and meditation, where I was gratified to find that I could find my center and calm myself once more. Now Master Yoda led the ceremony.

"Spoken for you has another Master," he said. His voice seemed firmer and fuller in this place – perhaps the acoustics were better, or maybe other factors played a part. I couldn't tell, at least not here. "Master Healer Bodreau, to take Belinda as your apprentice you have indicated your desire."

"I have, Master Yoda. I find her a most worthy and capable candidate." His tenor rang in the resonant chamber.

"Belinda, to this are you agreed?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. I am deeply honored, and hope to be worthy of the opportunity."

A droid came and shaved my hair in the Padawan's tonsure – essentially a two-inch-long crewcut, with a side lock left long. Master Bodreau came forward and quickly braided a blue silk ribbon into it (so much for my wondering what he'd use, since it seemed Twi'leks had _no_ hair), and placed a bead at the end that looked to be made of topaz, and bound it with an emerald color cord. I'd been told that these tokens indicated my rank as a junior Padawan. I hadn't quite memorized the system, but I thought it was _not_ the lowest level. Oh, well, I'd figure it out.

When we all stood, Qui-Gon lifted my chin and ran his hand over the hair that now curled close to my skull, and I could detect a shade of _disappointment_ in his manner. I knew the short cut wasn't the most flattering thing on earth, but this reaction surprised me. He tugged my braid and smiled a bit sadly.

"It was a wise thing to have your hair cut," he said. "I am impressed by your decision, it shows much thought."

"Thank you. If I understand the work I'll have to do, it will be practical, too. My hair grows quickly, though."

He smiled a bit more gladly now. "Good. I will be leaving on another mission in two days. Perhaps we will have time to talk before then."

"I hope so," I replied. "I'll try not to beat up any trees in the meantime."

He chuckled. "I'll warn your new Master to keep you from the Arboretum."

The Councils welcomed me as a Padawan – the Council of Healers, the Ruling Council, and the Council of First Knowledge, represented by Master Dooku. I bowed to each of them, and was presented to all of them by name. It was impressive to meet such wise people, even a bit daunting, but I was as polite as I knew how to be. Gods. And I had hesitated at _Graduate School._ It was back to kindergarten for Belinda, I guessed – but now I knew which way I was going, and it was the right way at last.


End file.
